


Snake Charmer

by InkFlavored



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Language Kink, M/M, Snakes, idiots to lovers, its there but it's covered in flowery metaphors yknow?, they're just.... so dumb folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFlavored/pseuds/InkFlavored
Summary: Prompts: “Wow, my pet snake looks so cute this morning and I’d be even happier if I actually had a pet snake.” & “You curse under your breath in a foreign language and I know I shouldn’t be turned on but I totally am.”
Relationships: Atem/Mutou Yuugi, Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi
Comments: 89
Kudos: 294





	Snake Charmer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auroblaze](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Auroblaze).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AURORA!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉writing these prompts was an absolute JOY, and i definitely went overboard (as usual)! i hope you like it, and i hope your special day is the greatest one of all!!! 
> 
> for a more general note - i tried to keep the arabic in this fic as accurate as possible, but please note that some of it is definitely going to be wrong. i'll provide the (approximate) translations in the end notes, and if you're curious about the sources i used, i'd be happy to hand them over!
> 
> and another disclaimer: oh my god please do not handle your snake this way. i look some liberties for the purposes of the fluff factor, it is only about 60% accurate to how you should treat a real snake. this has been a PSA.

A soft mechanical hum and cheerful songbirds coax Yugi awake. He rolls onto his side, scrunching up against the morning sun that blankets him with light from the open window. Bleary and half-asleep, he yawns with every muscle in his face, and stretches until his fingers brush the wall against his headboard. Time is molasses, and he moves accordingly.

With a sleepy sigh, he opens his eyes and takes in the familiar sights of his bedroom, letting his gaze wander as the rest of his brain catches up with his body. Cluttered desk, despite the summer break wiping free his schedule and any classes or lectures he might be pouring over notes for. Dozens of nerdy posters and gaming memorabilia. A cork board, stuck with dozens of pictures of his friends and family. Bedside table, currently all of its contents shoved to one side to accommodate a humidifier, his cure for a seasonal dry throat. And on top of it, a gorgeous sight.

Scales dappled with iridescence from the sunshine, a large snake is curled up asleep. Its rusty, red-orange body is spotted from head to tail with blotches of bright crimson outlined in black. Eyes of deep garnet gaze sightlessly from its pose, stripes of black scales running from its nose to the base of its head. The humidifier’s vapor slips around it and through gaps in its coil, almost like a mirage. 

Yugi smiles foggily at the reptile. _How beautiful_ , he thinks. _I wonder who it belongs to_.

Deciding the waking world can hold on for just a few more minutes, he closes his eyes and curls deeper into his blankets, with the intention to sleep a little bit more of the day away. 

His brain wakes up. 

Yugi’s eyes flash open. There’s a snake in his bedroom.

There’s a _snake_. 

In his _bedroom_.

Any sign that he might have been sleeping thirty seconds ago evaporates, replaced with adrenaline. Every muscle in his body is taught. The snake hasn’t moved.

Yugi inches out from under his covers, careful not to wake the sleeping reptile. Walking like he has a metal pole instead of a spine, he backs his way to the door without taking his eyes off the snake for a second. He snatches the handle as soon as he can feel it, and opens the door just enough to slip through. Once in the hall, he swiftly closes the door. The hinges don’t so much as squeak.

Then, Yugi braces himself against the opposite wall, and _panics_.

Whose snake is this? How did it get into his room? How did it get into his _apartment_? Where did it come from? He doesn’t know the people who live in his building, but he’s _pretty_ sure he would have noticed a snake that big if it was someone’s pet. It seems docile enough, but it’s _sleeping_.

He bites his lip. _What if it wakes up_?

It could be a wild animal. That only sounds slightly more ridiculous than someone owning it, to him. What if it’s a _venomous_ snake? How is he supposed to get it out of his room—much less outside, where it belongs? If it _is_ dangerous, scaring it is a bad idea. Nudging it out would work in _theory_ , but he’d have to keep it from slithering somewhere he couldn’t reach. Or attacking him. Somehow.

“This is bad,” he says, as if it’ll make a _snake in his room_ easier to deal with. “This is really bad.”

He doesn’t have to deal with this, right? He can leave it to the professionals. He can call animal control. They can get it sorted out. He pats the sides of his legs, forgetting his pajamas don’t have pockets. Which means his phone is…

In his room. _Damn it_.

Yugi takes a steadying breath, though he doesn’t feel any steadier. He shuffles into the kitchen. Food is the last thing on his mind, but he does a mental run through of any utensils that he might be able to make use of. And then a physical one, too, throwing open cabinets and digging through drawers for even an inkling of an idea.

Many of them are close range, and quickly discarded. The thought of getting right up next to it (again) makes him woozy. Besides, picking up a snake as thick as his arm with a pair of tongs couldn’t possibly end well. He sets aside his knives, too. As much as he hates the thought of a snake in his room, the thought of _killing_ it is too atrocious to even consider. But even a long range tool, in the form of a joke fork that could extend up to three feet, doesn’t appear useful. Poking it from halfway across the room might only make it angry. 

In the end, he settles for pacing back and forth on the cold tile, gnawing his nails down to stubs. What is he supposed to _do?_ Getting his phone could wake it up, which leads to its own problems, but waiting around and hoping it’ll just _leave_ can’t be his working solution. He needs help. He needs someone who knows what they’re _doing_.

Yugi drags a hand down his face. Banging on his neighbor’s door first thing in the morning to ask if they can help him get rid of a snake is the worst first impression he can think of. And between talking to strangers in his _Super Mario_ pajamas or dealing with a snake by himself, he almost wants to take his chances with the snake. 

But it’s also a _snake_. He’s not the best with animals, and he doesn’t like being around snakes _at all_. Which leaves exactly one option: Time to meet the people next door. He looks down at his unkempt appearance, sighing with resignation. 

A rapid knock at the door beats him to it.

Yugi jumps, rocketing back into reality. Who would be knocking on his door this early?

Whoever it is knocks again, urgent and loud. 

“Coming!” Yugi assures them, scampering the short distance across the kitchen to the foyer. He grips the handle and hesitates. He still looks like a mess.

_I guess I was going to go out anyway_ , he reasons. It doesn't stop him from wishing he could throw on some real clothes. He opens the door anyway, and all of his self-conscious feelings evaporate. 

The man behind it looks just as frazzled as he feels—if not more. The poor guy looks like he hasn’t slept, and every article of clothing he has on is backwards. He’s holding a plastic spray bottle, the kind Yugi would normally associate with plants. Considering the backwards shirt lists off a bunch of names dedicated to some sort of conservation effort, Yugi has half a mind to think he’s opened the door to a crazed naturalist who goes around town watering everyone’s houseplants. The fact their haircuts are nearly identical is an afterthought at best.

“Can I help you?” Yugi asks, trying not to stare.

“That depends,” the man says.

Yugi is startled out of the odd first impression from those two words alone. The man’s voice is a lot deeper than he expected, laced with an accent he can’t name. He can’t stop himself from thinking, _Wow_. 

“This might be a strange question,” he continues, “but have you by any chance seen—”

“A snake?” Yugi finishes, confident that there can’t possibly be a stranger question.

He blinks, surprised. “A sn—Yes, how did you know?”

“Because…” Yugi trails off, and stands back from the door to let the stranger in. “It’s probably better if I just show you.”

As the man walks through the offered doorway, Yugi gets a glimpse of the intended _front_ of his shirt. In big letters, it reads _S.O.S._ and underneath it, a smaller font reads _Save Our Snakes!_ Below it, a colorful cartoon snake is waving a flag stamped with a company logo with its tail. He closes the door and declares this the weirdest morning of his life.

“Did you see where he went?” the man asks.

“I can do you one better,” Yugi says, and gestures for him to follow, “and show you where it is right now.”

He slumps in relief. “Oh, good.”

Leading the way, Yugi finds this guy’s attachment to the snake a little weird. Adding it up with the shirt and the use of _he_ instead of _it_ , he guesses it’s probably a pet snake. Then, it weirds him out that a snake so big could have escaped from someone clearly invested in caring for them. 

_Maybe he’s not good at it_? he considers. If that _is_ the case, Yugi wants to have several words with him about keeping it contained.

At the door to his bedroom, he hesitates with the handle. He looks over his shoulder. “It’s not dangerous, is it?” 

“No,” the man responds. “Not unless he’s stressed.”

Yugi ignores the implications of that statement. “Cool.”

He swings the door open and takes several steps back. The stranger, on the other hand, steps into the room, looks around, and sighs heavily. He drops his head into his hand. 

“ _Ibnil fash-kha,_ ” he mutters, just loud enough for Yugi to hear and not understand beyond musical vowels, sharp consonants, and a harsh scoff as if he were clearing his throat. 

“I—What did you say?” he stutters, nervous and _not_ about the snake this time.

The man looks back with a tired smile. “Ah, sorry. That wasn't for you. It was for the snake.”

As if no further explanation is needed, he continues with the spray bottle held aloft, leaving a confused Yugi in the hall with his hands clenched into agitated fists. How is that for the snake? What does it _mean_? And… why does Yugi want to hear it again?

“Has he been here the whole time?” the man asks.

Yugi snaps to attention. “Yeah,” he responds, taking a few steps forward. “I woke up this morning and it— _he_ was just there.”

“Of course.” He shakes his head as if it was expected. “I hope he didn’t scare you too badly.”

“It was definitely a surprise.”

“I’m sure,” the man chuckles. 

The stranger sprays down the snake—still curled up on the humidifier—with the contents of the bottle. He runs the back of his fingers across the reddish scales, gentle as anyone would be with a cherished pet. It’s sweet, full of genuine care. Yugi’s glad he didn’t work up enough courage to call animal control.

“What’s his name?” he asks.

“Osiris.”

On cue, the snake raises his head from the coil. His pinkish-brown tongue darts in and out of his mouth in the direction of the spray bottle. 

“Also known as _ya hamaji_ ,” the man says, scolding Osiris and gesturing sharply with his free hand. “ _Dmaghik teban, ya hayawen.”_

Yugi tugs on the hem of his shirt, desperate to fidget with something as his higher functions cloud. “Does—Can he even understand you?”

“Not in the way a dog might. But he _can_ tell when I’m annoyed with him.” He gives Osiris one last aggressive spray with the bottle, to emphasize the point. 

Osiris doesn’t appear to get the message. The snake reaches up for his owner, tongue flicking in and out as he searches through the air. The man slides one hand under the thickest part of Osiris’ body, letting him slither his way up on his own terms. Yugi’s eyes bulge, all thoughts of what he’s almost certain are curse words in the stranger’s native tongue evaporating as Osiris reveals his full size. 

As more and more of the snake’s body becomes uncoiled, the faster the person underneath it disappears. Osiris curls around the stranger’s arm, around his neck, and across his shoulders. He’s longer than Yugi is tall, the thickest part of his body as wide as a grown man’s fist, and looks strong enough to break the arm he’s wrapped around. 

“There we go,” the man says, keeping his snake-bound arm slightly away from his body. “I can get him out of here now, thank you.”

“No problem,” Yugi replies, backing up as the snake and owner approach. “I’m still not sure how he got in here, but I’m glad you found him.” 

“Me too. As for how he got in here, I saw you left your window open. He must have climbed up the balcony railings the other night, because I live right below you.”

Yugi’s stomach drops, eyeing the rescued Osiris. “Oh.” 

“Don’t worry,” the man says hurriedly. “He doesn’t normally get out. He recently outgrew his enclosure and has become something of an escape artist. I’ll keep a closer eye on him as I get his new one put together.”

He smiles, and Yugi relaxes a bit. _He seems competent,_ he notes. _No need to get angry about it._ “I’ll be sure to let you know if I see him in here again.”

“Thank you.” He walks sideways through the doorway, keeping Osiris from scraping against the walls. “Hopefully you won’t.”

Yugi shuffles out of the room and leads the procession back to the front door. Behind him, he can hear the man saying something under his breath, too quiet to hear, and probably only for the snake. It reminds him of the words he _did_ get to hear, meaningless to him, yet incredibly captivating. Uncomfortably captivating. He feels too warm just thinking about it. But curiosity prods away at him.

“What were you saying back there?” he asks, hoping it’s an innocent enough question.

“About Osiris?”

“No, when you were speaking… I’m not actually sure what language it was.”

“Oh, that. That was Arabic.” The man laughs, a hint sheepish. “It wasn’t anything important, I was just calling my beloved snake an idiot.”

Yugi opens the door as they reach it, laughing along with him. “I don’t think he’s an idiot.”

The man gives him a knowing look as he exits. “Trust me, I’ve had him for twelve years. He’s stupid.” He looks at Osiris, the snake resting his head on his shoulder. “ _Ghabi fehshkh_.”

Yugi fights back a flush, pasting on a friendly smile. “Well, I’ll trust your judgement.”

“I’m Atem, by the way.” He shifts the spray bottle into his snake-covered hand, and sticks out the empty one to shake. “It was nice to meet you.”

“I’m Yugi.” He shakes the offered hand. “It was nice to meet you too. I’ll see you around.”

Atem takes his hand back and smiles. “I certainly hope so.”

A few seconds pass before Yugi can process those words. He opens his mouth, but Atem’s eyes widen as if he’s realized something urgent.

“I should get him back,” he says, lifting the arm held captive by Osiris. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Yugi says, but Atem is hurrying away before he finishes the word. “Cool,” he mumbles into the emptiness. He closes the door and leans back against it, working his jaw in a circle.

“ _Ghabi fehshkh_ ,” he says, trying to repeat the words he heard Atem say. 

They don’t feel right in his mouth, the sounds too forigen for him to pronounce. He conjures up the memory of how it sounded, how Atem moved his mouth to create those fluid syllables, the clash of unfamiliar letters against each other so smooth in his ears. He thought of the exact sounds the word contained, the pieces that interlock to create the sounds he heard. 

All he gets for his trouble is pink and a little dizzy.

_I shouldn’t be into this_ , he scolds himself. _It’s just words. I’m_ not _into this._

He shakes himself out, discarding the memories. He’ll have forgotten all about it by the end of the day. 

Probably.

  
  


To Yugi’s credit, he’s _almost_ forgotten about the snake incident by the end of the week. 

Sprawled out on the beanbag chair in his living room, not doing much else but watching the late afternoon become evening, he absent-mindedly wonders, _What did all those words mean?_ He blames the overbearing sun for his laziness, sweat plastering his too-big t-shirt to his body, and a molasses-slow brain plastering his thoughts against his skull. Anything halfway interesting fades in without prompting, and fades out before he can decide if it’s even worth thinking about. He’s been stuck on this particular subject for longer than usual.

He can’t fully blame the sun, though. Any time he’s had to travel downstairs since the encounter with his neighbor, he gives the apartment directly under his own a cursory glance, and wonders how Atem and his misbehaving snake are getting on. On faster days, it's a thought quickly overtaken, and he hardly has time to dwell on it for longer than it takes to entertain. But today is a slow day, and his thoughts have time to linger.

Despite all this, Yugi doesn’t try to repeat any of the Arabic he heard. Mostly because he can’t be asked to try any harder than once or twice. It’s difficult enough to remember _anything_ Atem said that day—most of it was under his breath, or spoken too quickly to really get a good handle on what the words sounded like. That, and spontaneously turning bright red in public would be embarrassing enough without the added knowledge of _why_.

His main question goes unanswered because of it. Though he guesses they were all some sort of reprimand or angry outburst, if Atem’s tone meant anything. 

_I could just look them up_ , he thinks, and then frowns. _But then again, no I can’t_. 

Not only is spelling the words a problem, he can’t read or understand Arabic letters. He wouldn’t even know where to _start_ looking for answers, and learning a whole new language to sate a simple curiosity is a bit much. Maybe he’s being too specific.

Yugi gropes for his phone, buried somewhere in his lethargic mass. He punches in a search for _Arabic swear words_ , sees a dozen results, and can’t be bothered to open any of them. He puts the phone down and exhales deeply. _I don’t even care_ , he insists. 

It’s not a good lie. He knows himself too well to see that he _does_ care, at least a little, otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking about it this much. He just doesn’t care about _this_ , specifically. About going through the trouble of finding out what the words mean on his own. Regardless of the accuracy, no matter how perfect the translation, none of it would truly satisfy. He doesn’t care about what the internet has to say, because it’s not _about_ what the words mean—not entirely. It’s not about _knowing_ the answer, it’s about who’s _giving_ him the answer.

He wants Atem to give him the answer. Who better than the person who gave him the question, after all? Not that Yugi would ever go banging on a stranger’s door, demanding translations to something they said almost a week ago. But it would be nice, in theory, to get those answers.

It would be nice to sit down and hear it all again, strange and beautiful sounds that mean nothing and everything at once. Unfamiliar, but promising more, and Yugi is almost ashamed of how much he wants to know more. 

Maybe Atem can just _talk_. Just talk about literally anything. Maybe Yugi can sit, not understand him, and enjoy it. Relish it. Drink in every sound and commit it to memory. Just listening to him speak. That would be _so_ nice. And it would be even _nicer_ if—

_Alright!_ he interjects, snapping the thought in half. _That’s enough, show's over._

Yugi digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to erase the vision in his head, and embarrassed about even having it. They’re just words. He’s fantasizing about _words_. So what if they’re _pretty_ words—they’re probably not as pretty when you know what they mean. And sure, so what if there are plenty of words in his _own_ language that are pretty regardless of their meanings. It’s weird to think about a whole language this way. 

Even though he should be satisfied with looking up the answers if this is _just_ about the language and not anything else. Any _one_ else… 

He drops his hands and huffs, brushing the daydream away as creeps back in. It’s time for either a cold shower or a walk, and only one of those things will shame him into behaving himself.

_Time for a walk_ , he declares.

He hefts himself out of the beanbag, taking his phone with him on the hunt for his earbuds. A walk can always be improved with music, after all. Coincidentally, music is also perfect for drowning out unwanted thoughts. 

Before he even gets a foot out the door, the diversion works its magic. A lap or two around the block will lead him right to wanting dinner, and isn’t there a ramen place nearby Jou has been pestering him to try since it opened? This is the perfect excuse to finally check it out! 

Emboldened, Yugi only stops to replace his old gym shorts for actual shorts—he has _some_ decency—and lace up his favorite sneakers before skipping out the door into the outside world.

_Why even bother with the walk_? he thinks, popping in the buds and turning on an upbeat playlist. _I can go there right now_.

The idea grows more convincing with each step he takes down to the first floor. If he goes for the walk first, he’ll be all sweaty by the time he wants to eat—and that’s _without_ the gross factor from sitting around all day. If he eats _now_ , then he can walk it off afterwards and be sweaty and gross at home instead of at a restaurant. Win-win!

He opens the GPS on his phone to guide him right to his destination, hovering over the keyboard. If only he could remember the _name_ of it. Switching apps to message Jou, he doesn’t even bother to—

_Smack!_

Yugi collides with a solid barrier, stumbling back and rubbing a soon-to-be sore spot on the edge of his forehead. Confused as to why a wall has magically appeared in the middle of the sidewalk, he focuses ahead… and has to resist sprinting back the way he came.

In the second weirdest meeting they’ve had this week, Atem stands behind a pane of glass as tall as a doorway. His mouth moves, but thanks to his music, Yugi can’t hear him.

He pulls out a bud from his ear and asks, “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were okay.” Atem leans out from behind the glass. “You hit your head.”

Yugi waves off the concern. “I’m fine, really. I should have been paying attention. I hope I didn’t crack your glass.”

The pane looks completely fine, an odd-shaped smudge the only evidence of his encounter. Atem shrugs, unconcerned.

“Don’t worry, it’s half an inch thick.” He knocks on the pane “It would take a lot more than that to shatter.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

_Well, I’ll be going,_ is what Yugi intends to follow up with, but the words won’t move past his teeth. The lingering draw of the daydream he resents wrenches his mouth open, and something completely different comes out instead:

“You’re Atem, right?”

Atem lights up. “I am. And you’re Yugi?”

“Sure am.” 

He can’t think of anything else to say. Atem’s smile hasn’t faltered. He screams at himself, _Change the subject, you idiot_! 

“What are you doing with all—” he gestures widely to the glass pane, “—this?”

Again, it isn’t the subject he _wanted_ , nor is it a good question. The smile is messing with him. That has to be it.

“I said I was getting Osiris a new enclosure,” Atem answers, waving his hand in the front of the glass. “This is part one.”

“You’re _building_ it?” 

“It’s cheaper. And he’s full size now, so it’ll be the last one he needs. Might as well, right?”

Yugi forgets about being nervous, genuinely impressed. “That’s really cool.”

“Thank you. It’ll be a lot easier once I get it inside… somehow.” He glances at his apartment’s door on the right, hanging wide open.

Yugi sizes up the entrance. It’s clear the pane won’t clear it standing upright. Flipping any other way would force Atem to scrape it along the ground, which can’t be good for the integrity. The best solution would be to have two people lift from either side, but he doesn’t need to size up the situation to see that Atem is _one_ person, and that he’s doing this all by himself.

Before he can arrest that train of thought, the words are already out of his mouth: “Do you need some help?” 

Yugi is _possessed_ , he’s sure of it. He likes to help people, but he isn’t strong in _any_ part of his body. Lifting an entire pane of glass—even _with_ help—is a near-impossible feat of strength for his skinny nerd arms. And his _walk_! His _distraction_! 

But Atem smiles again, grateful and relieved. “If you wouldn’t mind, yes. Thank you.”

Yugi arrests his music and shoves his phone and earbuds into his pocket. So much for his plan. 

“I’ll take this end,” he says, coming around to one side of the glass. He crouches down and grips the long edges so the short edge will face him when it’s off the ground. “Lift on three?”

Atem does the same on the top end of the pane. “On three.”

“Okay, one… two… _three_.”

With a heavy grunt and all the strength in his arms—and everywhere else, for that matter—Yugi lifts the pane and up and Atem angles it down. He hooks the glass under one arm to keep it secure, placing the other against the flat side. 

“I can’t believe that worked,” he huffs. 

“Me neither,” Atem agrees, facing him from the other side of the pane. “Hopefully the next part will work, too.” He takes a single step back, and Yugi tentatively follows.

“Are you sure you want to walk backwards?” 

“I’m as sure of that as I am about being able to hold this for much longer.”

“Which is?”

“Not very.”

Yugi laughs, shoulders shaking, and then remembers they’re holding a giant pane of glass. Sudden movements are a bad idea. “In that case, we should get this inside fast.”

“Agreed.”

They shuffle indoors, clumsy step by clumsy step. Yugi stares at his feet the whole time to make sure he’s walking in a straight line, keeping his arms rigid around the pane in his arms. The concrete sidewalk turns into hardwood flooring before his eyes, and air-conditioning cools the summer heat.

Atem angles their trajectory, the hardwood floor becoming a colorful braided carpet. Still staring down, he watches Atem’s feet shove aside various tools and hardware. He really _is_ building this from scratch. 

“We can set it down right here,” Atem says. “Against the couch.”

Yugi spots a couch to his left, plush and blue. He adjusts his grip on the pane and lowers it to the floor, Atem doing the same across from him. They stand up at the same time, wheezing with matching exhaustion. 

“Wonderful,” Atem pants. “One down.”

Yugi’s eyes bug out of his skull. “ _One_ down?”

“Yes, there are four. It’s a terrarium.” He smiles, halfway between puzzled and amused. “You didn’t think I got in all the others by myself, did you?”

To be honest, Yugi hadn’t been thinking about the number of panes a terrarium would need at all. Instead of admitting that, he waves a hand in Atem’s direction. “You look capable.”

“Thank you, but not _that_ capable, I’m afraid.” 

He takes another huff and shakes out his arms. “Well, lead the way.”

“You still want to help?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Atem brightens enough to replace the light lost from the setting sun. “Wonderful.”

He steps around the glass and over the tools, and Yugi watches him go, more than a little hung up on how he pronounces the _r_ in _wonderful_. And then resists the urge to slap himself.

_We are not doing this_ , he insists, picking up the pace to follow. _Especially not right now_.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up, following a close-but-polite distance behind Atem as he’s led out to the parking lot. He folds his hands behind his back, and tries to guess which car is their destination, but he doesn’t need to try all that hard. It isn’t hard to spot the old, two-door, pickup truck with a conspicuous number of long, rectangular objects covered in tarp peeking over the walls of the cargo bed. 

Once there, Atem drops the tailgate and hops up into the back. Yugi waits at the open end, shifting his feet and waiting for something to do. Atem slips the next pane of glass off its brethren, unwrapping it from its protections. Another square of tarp sits bunched up in the corner.

“I never would have put you down for a truck guy,” Yugi says, if only to make _some_ kind of conversation.

Atem kneels down and slides the pane over his lap, angling it down toward the tailgate. “I’m not. I’m borrowing this from a friend, and then I’ll be giving it right back.”

“Not a fan?” Yugi reaches for the glass as Atem shifts himself forward on his knees, careful to hold the pane steady.

“Not particularly. It’s too imposing.”

Yugi grabs the pane, holding it like a table top. Atem does the same on his end, shifting forward and to the side until he can drop out of the truck easily—not taking his hands off the glass even once.

“You look like you have a lot of practice with unloading stuff,” Yugi says. They rotate the pane so flat sides are facing outward again. 

“Would it be a surprise,” Atem replies, using one arm to slam the tailgate shut, “if I said I’ve done this before?”

A shirt with the slogan _Save Our Snakes!_ comes to mind. "Not even a little."

Steadier this time, they hobble the glass pane through the parking lot. Yugi no longer feels the urge to stare at his feet the whole time, though he does look down just in case. Atem takes frequent glances over his shoulder, probably for the best. Yugi knows for a fact he would have run into every obstacle on the way if _he_ had been the one walking backwards.

“Thank you again,” Atem says, as they shuffle their way underneath the doorway again. “I have no idea how I was going to do this alone.”

“Happy to help,” Yugi says, and he means it. Regardless of any _feelings_ he may or may not have, helping a neighbor is the least he can think of to do—especially as repayment for rescuing him from a snake. And _speaking_ of…

“Has Osiris made any more escape attempts?” he asks, the roof of the apartment now sheltering them both.

“Luckily, no.” They gingerly set the second pane of glass against the first, and Atem points across the room. “I’ve taken precautionary measures.”

Yugi follows the finger, and his eyes are led to a sixty-gallon terrarium tucked into one corner of the room. It sits on its side on a polished, dark, wood table, and it’s fit to bursting with branches, leaves, and other flora. A large dish of water takes up almost a fourth of the tank on one end. Half of a log, placed in the darkest spot of the tank, has something large curled up inside of it—presumably Osiris. And on top of the terrarium, several _gigantic_ books.

“Wow,” he says, in awe at the display.

Atem snorts good-naturedly, mistaking his admiration for skepticism. “It’s a little overkill, but I’d rather be safe than have an escaped snake. Again.”

Yugi takes the time to look around before they return to the truck for the third pane. At a quick glance, he notices a lot of _green_ —plants on countertops, hanging from ceiling baskets, and with their own little tables tucked against just about every wall. Some of them burst with colorful blossoms, but many of them are ferns or succulents, with verdant leaves and snaking vines that brush the floor and up windows.

“Of all the places for him to escape to,” Atem says, and Yugi snaps his head forward, “I’m glad he found your humidifier, at least.”

“Why’s that?”

“His species—the Brazilian rainbow boa—needs a lot of humidity. It can be life-threatening if they aren’t in the proper climate, and being gone as long as he was I was… worried.” 

Atem’s face screws up, and Yugi has the urge to put an arm around his shoulder. “I’m glad you got him home safe,” he says instead. 

“Yes, safe and sound, as far as I can tell.” He hops back into the truck, unwrapping the next pane of glass. 

Yugi stretches out his arms to make sure they don’t fall off when he picks it up. “I like your plants, by the way.”

Atem perks up like a dog that heard _walk_ , throwing the tarp cover aside. “Thank you! I’ve been growing them for years.”

“ _Years_?” He prepares for the oncoming glass. “The last plant I had lasted two months.”

“Was it your first one?” Atem slides the pane down like last time.

Yugi catches it in his arms. “Yep.”

“Then you had it—” he stops to drop down onto the ground, “—longer than I had mine.” They flip the glass to the side, taking a minute to adjust their holds.

“And now you own—what? Nineteen? Twenty?”

That guess is half a joke, so he’s shocked when Atem pauses to count under his breath. It couldn't be _that_ many, right?

“Twenty-two,” he corrects, after a solid thirty seconds. 

Yugi stares. He saw a lot of plants, but _twenty-two_?“You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I am.”

The expressionless response throws Yugi for a loop, and he can’t figure out if it’s supposed to be a joke until Atem breaks the illusion with a playful smile. Yugi snorts and shakes his head.

“That poker face got me,” he says. 

“It usually does.” Atem backs under the threshold of the door, kicking the door to make sure it stays open. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“How many do you _actually_ have, then?”

“Eleven.”

They set the third pane of glass against the other two, and Yugi is proud to note that he’s panting significantly less. Progress!

“Eleven is still a lot to manage,” he says. 

Atem shrugs. “It comes with practice.” 

Yugi brushes his hands of invisible dust, looking down at their hard work. “One more?”

“One more.”

The trek for the fourth and final glass pane is without much talking, and the retrieval is similar. Yugi makes the mistake of letting his mind wander again, now that he’s got the hang of this whole transporting-glass-panes-thing, and it leads him to surprise at how Atem… _is_ , in general.

When he pictures a snake owner—or the way he did before—it’s of someone tough and serious who wants to have a _badass_ pet that they can threaten to kill someone with. He doesn’t know a lot about snakes, but Osiris doesn’t seem like the kind of snake one would threaten another person with, and his owner _definitely_ isn’t a broody type. 

On the contrary, Atem keeps revealing how completely _un_ serious he is, talking about his snake like Yugi talks about deck composition. Osiris is Atem’s _pet,_ a very dear pet, who also happens to be the thing he’s passionate about, if context clues mean anything. It’s unexpected, but not unpleasant in the least. 

It almost makes Yugi want to learn more about snakes. He’ll be the first to admit that snakes freak him out, but if everything he thought about their _owners_ is wrong, there must be a lot wrong with what he “knows” about snakes, too.

So lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice they’re back in the apartment until Atem says, “You can put it down now.”

Yugi jumps in surprise, tugging the pane into his chest. Atem loses his grip on the other side. The glass falls in slow motion, but neither of them are fast enough to stop the inevitable. The abandoned corner of the pane meets with the floor, and—

“ _Akh, allaen!_ ” Atem cries out, as the glass collides with his foot, doubling over immediately. “Ow, ow, _ow._ ”

Yugi leaps to lift the pane off, all thoughts redirected to the _very heavy_ thing that just injured someone. “I am _so_ sorry, are you alright?”

Both of Atem’s hands are raised and clenched into fists. He gives a shaky thumbs up. “I’ll live,” he wheezes.

“That thing was _really_ heavy, are you sure?”

“I’m—”

“If you need to sit down, I can get you some ice or someth—”

“ _Yugi_.”

He shuts up. Immediately. He pretends the sudden warmth and accelerated heartbeat are from surprise.

“Thank you,” Atem continues, shaking out his injured foot, “but I’m okay.” He stands up straight, none the worse for wear.

Yugi takes a step back, one hand glued to the back of his neck that just keeps getting warmer. “S-sorry about that. Again.”

“Don’t be, I’ve had worse.” He pats the four glass panes, leaning against each other. “And I’m sure I would have done a lot worse to _myself_ without help.”

“No problem, it’s for a good cause.” He turns to Osiris’ terrarium, needing to look at something else— _anything_ else. 

The dark lump under the log stretches out. Osiris slithers across the bedding in his tank, coming right up to the glass and flicking his tongue. Dark red eyes with diamond pupils stare, unblinking, across the room. Yugi forgets about being flustered to stare back, mesmerized as Osiris loses interest and crawls across the rest of the tank to curl up in the pool of water. He rests his chin on the edge, in the most relaxed position Yugi has ever seen a reptile make.

“Someone’s awake early,” Atem says, already on the move to get closer.

“Early?” Yugi repeats, following him to the tank. They both bend down to look at Osiris. He doesn’t pay either of them any attention.

“Rainbow boas are nocturnal. He usually wakes up an hour or two after it’s already dark.” 

Osiris unhinges his jaw alarmingly wide and snaps it shut. For a flash, the pink insides of his mouth become visible, full of alien hollows and lumps, all the way back to the dark chasm of his throat. Yugi glances to the side warily, but Atem smiles at his snake like other people smile at kittens.

“He’s stretching,” he explains, noticing Yugi’s nerves. 

“Because he just woke up?”

“Yes, it’s like yawning. He's realigning his jaw after being immobile for so long.”

“Oh, okay.” With that perspective, he can _sort of_ see how a snake can be cute. A little. 

Atem nudges him with his elbow. “I can bring him out if you want to see him.”

“Uhh…”

Yugi’s first impulse is to say _no, absolutely not_ , but he hesitates. His surprise meeting with Osiris earlier that week was only scary because Yugi didn’t know anything about him. Now, he knows for a fact Osiris isn’t dangerous, and Atem will be here the whole time to ensure he doesn’t _get_ dangerous. Besides, he’s already decided he wants to learn more. This would be the perfect place to start. 

“Sure,” he says. 

Atem lifts the books off the terrarium at once, stacking them up on what little remains of the table. “I can’t promise _he’ll_ want to come out,” he admits. “But if you want, you can stick your hand in and say hi.”

Maybe this is a little _too much_ learning for lesson one. “I-I’m okay. If he doesn’t want to come out that’s fine.” 

“Nervous?” Atem slides the top of the tank off. Osiris raises himself up from the pool, tongue flicking in and out. Water runs in rivulets down his scales. Yugi swallows.

“A little.”

He nods sympathetically. “Remember, he can’t do anything worse to you than you can do to him. If you’re scared, that means he’s scared, too.”

Yugi has his doubts, but he tries to take it seriously. Osiris _is_ a snake, but it would also be really easy for him to get hurt by someone on accident, let alone someone intending harm. He _looks_ scary, but a lot of things look scary that aren’t. It’s just not knowing—it's ignorance. He’s going to be fine. _I’m going to be fine_ , he thinks, repeating it like a mantra in his head _._

Atem puts one hand into the tank, palm flat and fingers dangling. Osiris lifts himself even higher, tongue flicking faster over the new presence in his space. 

“Can you back up a couple steps?” Atem asks. “Being handled and meeting a new person at the same time can stress him out.”

Yugi is happy to oblige. He backs up to the very end of the terrarium, giving both Atem and his snake plenty of space. He breathes deep. _I’m going to be fine._

Osiris places his head in the offered hand, sliding his way up with his tongue searching all the way. His body scrunches its way up, and Atem leans in with both hands—one to support the thick part of his body, and the other to give Osiris more slack to climb.

“There he is,” he croons, carefully guiding Osiris up his arm. “ _Marhabaan 'ayuha alwasim.”_

Yugi fidgets where he stands. He tries to tune out the sound of Atem’s voice, honing in on Osiris. He swaps out one mantra for another: _Think about the snake_. _Think about the snake_.

The snake wraps up and around Atem’s arm completely, still dripping with water. Like a big, uncomfortable arm brace, Osiris curls around and around until almost the whole of his body is bunched up in a spring-like coil. He stretches his head up to meet Atem’s, tongue flicking out, brushing the side of his face. 

Atem strokes the side of his body with his free hand and murmurs, “ _Mayn dhlk wasim sabi?_ ”

Yugi is no longer thinking about the snake. Yugi is no longer thinking about _anything_ , except the words that just hit his ears. All soft, hushed tones that he knows aren’t meant for him, not that he could even understand them if they were. He doesn’t care what they mean, or that Atem is talking to his snake, or that today is the first time they’ve spent more than five minutes together—he wants to hear that again, as soon as possible, preferably directly into his ear, but just _at him_ would be fine. 

“Are you alright, Yugi?”

Only then does he remember that they’re barely three feet apart. “I’m fine!” he blurts— _Think about the snake_ , _think about the snake!_ “Why do you ask?”

Atem looks between him and Osiris. “You look a little tense, I can put him back if—”

“Nope, I’m good!” If anything, being around the snake will take his edge off. Hopefully.

With a practiced hand, Atem slides his free wrist under Osiris, and lets him explore. “You can get closer now,” he tells Yugi, “if you’re comfortable.”

Yugi can’t decide if he’s too comfortable, or vastly uncomfortable. Either way, he inches closer, heart in his throat. Osiris notices within seconds, head swiveling around to flick his tongue at the disturbed air. But instead of stretching out to greet Yugi, he pulls back, scrunching up his neck like an accordion.

“Hi,” Yugi says, glancing up at Atem for direction when the snake makes no move to get friendly. “I don’t think he…”

Atem moves his hand from under Osiris. The snake follows it for a moment, but retreats to travel across his chest when he sees where it’s going—toward Yugi. 

“Give me your hand,” he says. 

Yugi hands it over, with a stuttering exhale. Atem takes him by the wrist, flipping his hand over so his palm faces the ceiling. Yugi tries not to think about how sweaty it must be. Every muscle in his body tenses up as Atem guides his hand toward Osiris’ bigger coils around his arm, pressing the back of his fingers to the scales. 

They feel different than he expected. He assumed a snake’s scales would be rough, but Osiris is smooth, bumpy, and wet from his bath. The bright red and black surface shines with the same rainbow sheen as its namesake. Yugi slides his fingers easily across Osiris’ body. A disbelieving smile breaks out across his face. 

“Yeah?” Atem asks, letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” Yugi says, marvelling at himself. He’s touching a snake, and _not_ dying? 

Atem brushes his hand near Osiris’ head, just under his neck. The snake stretches as far from Yugi as possible. 

“ _Maashi_ ,” Atem whispers. “ _Maashi.‘Ant thueban jayid, aywa?”_

The tips of Yugi’s ears catch fire. Being this close is bad for his blood pressure. 

“I thought you said he couldn’t understand you,” he manages. 

“He understands my tone,” Atem explains. “Or I like to think he does.”

Whether or not it’s true, Osiris appears to calm down from the sound of his owner’s words. He slinks back from his “hiding place,” and swings himself around toward the newcomer for the first time. He lowers his head to inspect the hand, tongue slipping in and out, watching carefully. 

Yugi, on the contrary, is even more agitated. He is singularly focused on the coil of Osiris’ body he’s petting, not looking up for any reason. And between being watched by a snake, Atem only inches away, his racing heart, the ringing in his ears, his brain going ballistic, and just about _everything_ else, Yugi decides, _Okay. That’s enough_. He snatches his hand back.

Lightning fast, Osiris snaps his neck forward and clamps down on his retreating fingers. Yugi yelps and jerks away. Atem pulls Osiris to his chest, just as surprised.

“ _No,_ ” he hisses at the snake. Then he smiles apologetically at Yugi. “Sorry, I think he’s upset.”

“That’s okay,” Yugi says, clutching his hand to his chest. “I think he could tell I was nervous”

“Most likely.” 

Atem leans over the terrarium again, trying to twist his hand around and give Osiris a clear path to the bottom. He reaches for the underside of the snake’s head, and pulls back just in time to avoid a second bite. 

“Hey!” he snaps. “ _Ihtirim nafsak_.”

It’s at that moment that Yugi, heart leaping and his head swimming from those _two words,_ realizes, _I have to get out of here before I explode_.

“Is your hand okay?” Atem asks, Osiris eagerly sliding off his arm to slither away into his leaves and branches.

Yugi hardly hears him. “Hm?”

“Your hand. He got you, didn’t he?”

He looks down at his fingers. They’re a little red, but it’s nothing time won’t fix. “He did, but I think I’m fine.”

Atem puts the lid of the terrarium back, and re-stacks the books. “I can take a look if you want. I’ve been bitten plenty of times.”

In any other situation, Yugi would have taken the offer—and maybe even asked for that story. In _this_ situation, the thought of being that close again, essentially holding hands, will absolutely be enough to kill him.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he insists, taking a step back. “But I was heading to dinner when I ran into you, so I think I’m gonna… go.”

“Oh,” Atem says, looking more than a little disappointed. “Of course, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

_Oh no_ , is Yugi’s first thought when he comes into contact with his ultimate weakness: a sad face. “It’s fine, lifting all that glass gave me an appetite. Really, I should be thanking you.”

Atem laughs, short. “Well, the next time I need help with something really heavy, I’ll make sure it’s around dinnertime.”

“Sweet.”

They both stand there. Yugi doesn’t want to leave Atem alone and _sad_ , but can’t figure out how to excuse himself in a way that lightens the mood. 

“Where are you headed?” Atem asks suddenly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m—” Yugi cuts himself off when he remembers, he has no idea. “Funny story, I don’t know. I was asking my friend for the name when I ran into that.” He jerks his thumb at the glass panes. “All I know is that it’s a new ramen place that’s supposed to be _incredible_.”

Atem brightens in recognition. “The one one fifth?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“The Green Dragon?”

A flurry of text messages speed through Yugi’s brain and— “Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it.”

“I love that place, I’ve been going since they opened.”

“Worth it?”

“ _Definitely_ , it’s incredible. I recommended just about everything.”

Yugi nods, impressed. “I guess I’ll be going a lot more than once.”

Atem looks happy, even eager, at the turn of the conversation. Now is the perfect time to make his escape!

“I’ll see you around, then?” he asks, taking his first steps toward the exit.

Atem deflates again—not as much as the first time, but it’s there. _Damn it!_

“Yeah!” he says, forcing enthusiasm. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Yugi gives a little wave and turns around with his head between his shoulders. _What is he even upset about_? he wonders. Then he spies the glass out of the corner of his eye, the pile of tools and parts, and cans of something that look like paint.

It gives him an idea.

“And hey,” he adds, turning around and gesturing to the parts, “if you need any more help building that tank, you know where I live.”

Ecstatic. That is the only accurate word for the expression that crosses Atem’s face. “Yes, I will absol—I’ll need help so, uh, thank you!” 

Yugi gets a second-hand dose of joy just from looking at him. “Okay, sounds good.”

“Wonderful, I—I guess I’ll see you around sooner than usual?”

“Whenever that is, yes. I’d be happy to help.”

Atem moves his hands around vaguely, like he doesn’t know where to put them. “Thank you, again. I don’t even…”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you then.”

Before he can make any more promises, Yugi spins around and leaves. Only when he’s outside, with half the parking lot between himself and the door, does he bury his face into his hands and groan.

_What have I gotten myself into_?

  
  


Creating things isn’t foreign to Yugi. Card towers, paper airplanes, origami stars, even a figurine or two. His projects focus on fine details, every fold of paper and millimeter of space serving as its own little creation, and used for nothing more besides. The most intense fate they’ll ever experience _after_ creation is being admired on a shelf, thrown across a room, or knocked over in thirty seconds. Instantaneous achievement, with no other purpose than to satisfy in the moment—the _memory_ of the creating them is the point, not the use they serve afterward.

But returning to Atem’s apartment a few days later and seeing the vast array of stuff lying out just to _prepare_ to _start_ building the terrarium, it’s clear this project is going to be a lot different.

A lot of it is familiar—the glass panes, the tools, the various pieces of hardware, and the tarp for the glass now covering the floor—but the newest and _largest_ addition is the skeleton of a single-door cabinet, taller than he is by at least a head. All the walls have been knocked out, leaving only the top and bottom covered with the original dark wood, and the corner edges. A big hole rectangle—what’s left of the door—is closed with a small key turn lock. All around, the edges have small trenches cut out, the perfect size to fit the panes.

“So,” Yugi says, glancing to Atem at his side, “where do we start?”

“Prepping the glass with polyurethane, I think.” He hops over the spread of tools and inspects the cabinet. “I’ve already done just about everything I can with the frame, but I might give it another coat just to be safe.”

“Poly… what?”

Atem bends down and tosses him one of the paint cans he saw the last time—except it’s not paint at all. 

“Polyurethane,” he repeats, matching the word on the label. “It helps keep everything from warping from the humidity.”

Yugi kneels down with the can in front of the first pane he can see. “Right, because Osiris needs a lot of it.”

He nods, crouching down by the glass as well. “Minimum seventy percent humidity at all times.”

“How do you even keep track of that?” Yugi fishes around for a screwdriver to open the can. 

“A hygrometer—it’s a thermometer for humidity.” 

“I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

The lid separates from the polyurethane with a satisfying _pop_ , revealing the slick substance inside. Yugi puts the can down as Atem hands him a thick-bristle brush. 

“Just paint it on?” he confirms.

Atem dips a brush of his own into the can. “Just paint it on.”

Yugi follows suit, surprised when it hits the brush with almost no resistance. It slides across the glass easily, glossy and smooth. He tries to paint the lines as evenly as possible from end to end, spreading the excess across to cover a wider area. Across from him, Atem drags his brush in a long line, then doubles back to spread out the excess across the same area. 

“What’s the plan for the rest of it?” Yugi asks. 

“The polyurethane takes a day to dry,” he responds, barely glancing up. “But after that, the next step is setting the windows, and building the rest of it from the inside out.”

“Any cool ideas?”

Atem looks cautiously excited, like he’s not sure if Yugi is actually interested, but has been dying to say something. “I’ve been wanting to give him some more space to climb for a while, and I found this really great climbing stick that’s about—” he puts down his brush on the tarp and spreads his arms in a wide diagonal, a little taller than half the cabinet. “This big.”

Luckily for him, Yugi _is_ genuinely interested. He’s putting this thing together, after all. “Ooh, a real one?”

“No, no way. It’s fake. The only thing that’s real in his tank right now are the plants.”

Yugi cranes his neck to look up at Osiris’ tank. All the greenery he believes without a doubt are real, but the partial log and other branches look natural enough that he didn’t even notice the unnatural, plastic sheen that he sees now. 

“They look so realistic,” he says.

“They’re supposed to,” Atem replies, with a hint of pride. “It’s more comfortable for him, and I don’t have to worry about the wood rotting.”

Yugi picks up his brush again, finishing up his half of the glass. “Is it hard to keep the plants alive?”

“Not very. They’re fine with being sprayed down once a day, which I do for Osiris anyway, and it’s hot enough that I only need one small plant light.”

“Hot?”

“Seventy-two on the low end, eighty-five on the high end. Snakes like a gradient so they can regulate their body temperatures.”

With all of these specifications, numbers, and requirements just to keep a snake _alive,_ Yugi begins to think that owning one is less like having a pet and more like a dedicated life project. It’s hard to wrap his head around.

“That is so much responsibility,” he says. 

Atem shrugs like it’s nothing—and to him, it probably isn’t. “I have a heat lamp with a monitor on it so it never gets too hot or cold. I bought another one for this tank because it’s bigger, but it isn’t any harder than checking a thermometer.”

“You said you’ve had Osiris for twelve years, right?”

He raises his eyebrows, taken aback. “Yes. I’m surprised you remember.”

“I remembered because twelve years is a _long time._ A lot less people would have a pet if it needed a new house every few years.” Yugi puts his brush down and indicates the vast array of supplies in front of them. “And all the time and thought you’ve put into this project is really impressive.”

Atem just stares at him, arm suspended mid-brushstroke. “I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Yugi doesn’t mean to stare back, but where else is he supposed to look? They’re having a conversation. But when he’s done talking, and Atem doesn’t respond, he finds it difficult not to. And that he doesn’t really want to look at anything else, anyway.

The spell breaks when Atem drops his brush onto the wet polyurethane, louder than any shatter of glass.

“I think this one’s done,” he mutters, picking up the brush and smoothing over the smudged area.

“Okay,” Yugi agrees, only half-listening. The other half of him resists a face plant onto the floor.

Atem slides the first pane of glass to the side to dry, and Yugi shoves any obstacles out of the way to make room. They lower the second one together from where it leans against the couch.

“Do we have to do the other sides too?” Yugi asks.

“No, one side is fine for now. The other can wait until they’re all installed into the frame.”

They start the second pane in silence again, brushing the glass and watching the glossy polyurethane make it even shinier. But after several minutes of painting, Atem cuts through the quiet.

“Not everyone builds their own terrariums,” he says.

Yugi almost laughs. “Well, yeah.”

“No, no, not like that.” He smiles, wistful. “I’ve had Osiris for as long as I have because I raised him.”

Yugi pauses halfway between the can and the glass, brush dripping. “Really?”

“A good friend of mine was a breeder back… back home. He let me keep Osiris from a good clutch when I was twelve, and he’s been with me ever since.”

His fragile tone almost steers Yugi clear of continuing the conversation, but not entirely. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he starts, “where’s ‘home’?”

Atem sighs, but his smile remains. “Cairo. Egypt. A long, long time ago.”

_What happened?_ is Yugi’s first question, but he isn’t going to ask it. He can sense a sensitive topic a mile away, and this is setting off every alarm bell in the book. 

“Osiris is your little piece of home, then?” he offers instead.

“Yes, and more.” Atem leans back on one hand, looking over the couch at his snake. “In Egypt, hospitality is very important—everyone takes care of each other, or they should. Building this for Osiris is the least I can do, in my eyes.”

Yugi watches him with a smile of his own. “That’s—”

A shrill chirp interrupts him, and startles them both out of the moment. Atem frantically pats his pockets and reveals his warbling phone. He rolls his eyes.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing with the device. 

“No, go ahead.” Yugi bends over the glass again, planning on making up for that long pause with a lot of painting.

Atem swipes open the call. “ _Ahlan?_ ” he says, void of any tone. Yugi bites this tongue. “ _Hakallemak baʿdīn. ‘Ana mashg_ —” He rips the phone away from his ear and winces. An angry voice yells from the speaker, and Atem rubs his brow. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” he grumbles, standing up with the phone still an arm’s length away from his ear. His voice is noticeably farther away when he says, “ _Allah, baba, tawwal baalak_.”

Yugi suddenly minds the phone call very much. Not that he’d say it, or explain why.

He shifts his seating from kneeling to cross-legged, propping one elbow up on his knee to cover half his face with his hand. He goes back to painting the glass, electing to ignore the one-sided conversation happening behind him. For his own sake. 

He re-dips his brush. He slaps the protective layer onto the pane in a short, fast stroke. Smoothing it out, he paints in zig-zag rows with the extra gloss. Up, left, up, right, and so on. It’s methodical, it requires concentration, it—

Atem’s terse voice filters through to his ears, “ _Khalik fi halik._ ” 

Yugi puts the brush down to bury his face in _both_ his hands. It’s _really hard_ to ignore this phone call.

As the conversation continues, Atem’s responses are punchy, making every word count by saying as little as possible. Yugi can’t make out everything he says—sometimes he speaks too fast—but what he _can_ make out is harsh, sharp, and cutting. He doesn’t need a translation to know Atem is irritated, or that he’s had this conversation a hundred times. 

Yugi scrunches his face up and then shakes himself out vigorously. No more. He came here to help, and help is what he’s going to do. It would be weird enough to feel this way if it was a regular phone call, but Atem is _clearly_ upset. There’s a time and a place.

The time is _later_ and the place is _his room_ , but that’s a whole different conversation.

He picks up his brush again, bending over the glass on his hands and knees. He paints longer, vertical lines, spreading the polyurethane as far as his arm can reach. The ends of the bristles just barely reach the two-thirds mark, and he smiles. Maybe he can get the whole thing done by himself! 

“ _Da kalaam ayy kalaam_ ,” Atem says, dry and full of bite. There’s a pause, then he continues, speaking too fast to understand. 

Yugi swallows a full-body shiver, and stares down at the glass intensely. His reflection stares back, a lot redder than usual. He swipes the brush over it forcefully, willing it into a respectable expression.

_You’re not fifteen_ , he chides. _Keep it together_.

He works double time on the pane, lathering with polyurethane and letting the phone call in the background become mindless noise. It helps that Atem’s half is too quick for Yugi to make out the words—he only catches one, “ _Tozz_ ,” and he isn’t even sure if it’s a real word. It’s just sound. His fervor becomes a buzz, easy to ignore.

Coating the pane up and down, while covering a lot of the surface, leaves Yugi with a lot of extra gloss and a big chunk of dry glass. He isn’t going to be able to finish the last of it with determination alone—the brush only gives him a few extra inches on his short arms. Electing to move his body instead of the heavy, wet glass pane, Yugi shuffles around to the other side on his knees. Before he can even dip his brush again, he notices a repetitive flash in the reflection. 

From this angle, Atem is clearly visible, pacing back and forth between his kitchen and foyer. Over and over, he attempts to speak, but whoever it is on the line keeps cutting him off. Or so Yugi guesses from his expression—every muscle that _can_ frown cuts deep lines into his face. Every time he’s forced to close his mouth, his lips purse tighter, his brows knit closer together. 

Yugi forces himself to focus for a _different_ reason this time. He continues the strokes cut short from his lack of reach, smoothing the excess gloss down the pane. Every so often, he glances back up at Atem, morbid curiosity preventing him from ignoring it again. He gets angrier between every peek, steps getting sharper, grimace winding tighter and tighter— 

“ _Ruwhi talaeat!_ ” Atem explodes, slicing through the air so aggressively Yugi flinches. “ _Ya kadhaab, maalak?”_ Now it’s his turn to not let his conversation partner get a word in, because less than three seconds pass before he spits, “ _La, haraam ealayk_.”

Continuing to speak at a dizzying pace, Atem all but stomps around like a soldier, throwing his free hand around in the air in all directions. 

Yugi gets no joy out of this. Not even a spark. Any inkling of pleasure fizzles and dies next to Atem’s ferocity. It scares him. 

Suddenly, Atem stops on a dime. Frozen in place, the next words leave his lips colder than ice: 

“ _Faat il-awaan. Salaam_.”

And with that, he slams his phone down so hard onto the kitchen counter, it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter on impact. He fumes at it for a few seconds before spinning around, frenzied eyes locking with a very concerned Yugi. He jumps back in surprise, as if he’d completely forgotten about the second person in his house.

“Sorry,” Atem says, accent significantly more pronounced. “I was hoping to end it quickly.”

“It’s okay,” Yugi replies, feeling very much like he witnessed something he shouldn’t have. “Are you alright?”

Atem snorts and rubs his eyes. “Good question.”

Yugi can’t tell if asking more would make things better or worse, so he says nothing. Atem drags himself back to the workspace, plopping down on the other end of the pane. Yugi hands over his forgotten brush. He takes it, weakly smoothing out the messier strokes, but Yugi can’t find it in himself to move at all. Worse than furious, Atem looks beaten down. Broken. He curls in on himself, like he’s hoping to shrink. 

“If you need space,” Yugi says, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t mind leaving and coming back tomorrow.”

“No,” Atem replies, muted of all emotion. “It’s alright.”

“Okay. But if I can help, somehow…” He isn’t entirely sure what he can offer to a conversation he didn’t _really_ hear, but he wants to make his offer at least _known_. He can’t help if Atem doesn’t want it—but Atem has to know he can ask for help, first. 

“I’m not sure how much there is _to_ help,” Atem admits. “Big shouting matches are… Let’s just say they run in the family.”

“Family in Cairo?”

“Yes. The reason I don’t live there anymore.”

He swipes at another rough patch and Yugi returns to painting with a stone in his gut. He wants to say something, but what is there to say?

“You’ve got a good home here, too,” he comments after a spell of silence. “A snake and a million plants? You’re living the dream.”

Atem smiles, just barely, but it’s something. “I agree. But they don’t see it that way.”

_Ah_. The pieces fall together. 

Yugi doesn’t get angry at a lot of things. In fact, he avoids anger at all costs. But families abandoning their children when they don’t live up to hyper-specific, impossible standards is something he’s seen too many times to sit quietly about.

“Their loss,” he says, matter-of-fact. “They’re not going to get to see all the great things you do without them.”

“ _They_ aren’t going to think it’s ‘great.’”

“So? _You’ll_ think it’s great. The people who care about you will think it’s great. I think _all this_ —” he indicates the empty frame of the terrarium behind him, “—is pretty great.” He points to the other terrarium across the room. “ _Osiris_ is going to think it’s great.” 

“Okay, okay.” Atem sounds a little impatient, but there’s a little light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. 

But Yugi isn’t done. “As long as _you_ think it’s great, that’s what matters. The people who actually care about you will agree. Everyone else can suck it.”

_Now_ he’s done. Returning to the glass, he only gets a single stroke in before he notices Atem staring at him in the slightly-warped reflection. He looks up.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” Atem says, “but I think you’re really smart.”

Yugi shakes his head to hide the flush crawling up his neck. “Nah, I just think too much.”

“That sounds like being smart.”

He’s grinning now. It’s awful. He stares at the glass, but can’t bring himself to paint on it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“Of course, whatever I say. Apparently, I’m great.”

Yugi laughs, loud and full. One part of him doesn’t want to _ever_ finish building this terrarium, but another part wants it to be done as soon as possible. He wants to look at it, and remember all this.

Maybe this project isn’t so unlike his own after all.

  
  


Yugi prides himself on his attention to detail. Whether it’s noticing tells, predicting an opponent’s strategy, or mundane things that others simply overlook, he’s very good at picking up what other people hand out. Even if they don’t know they’re handing out anything at all, Yugi can take it and use it however he likes—usually to win a game, but for simpler things, too. 

More often than not, he uses his friends’ tones and facial cues to diseren when something is up. He doesn’t _tell_ any of them, in case they think it’s creepy, but there are some things he can’t help put the pieces together on. If someone’s mouth quirks when they’re angry, he backs off. If they only speak with perfect grammar when something bad has happened, he helps without even needing to be told why. The longer he spends with someone, the more he notices. And the more time they spend together building the terrarium, the more Yugi notices about Atem.

His accent is never again as pronounced as it was after the angry phone call, and even then it had faded quickly. There wasn’t much time to pick up on anything, Yugi doesn’t expect himself to remember it through the bombshell of rage and dismay, but he does. Hearing it layered on so thick _once_ gives him a cheat sheet for how it sounds peeled back. 

And it’s killing him. Currently.

“Can you take this?” Atem asks, handing him the aquarium sealant. He uses his other hand to hold Osiris back from crawling the rest of the way down his arm. “He keeps trying to get at it.”

“Sure.” Yugi takes the bottle, unable to stop himself from noticing, _He holds his vowels too long._ “Do you need help with the shelf?”

After several days, setting the glass into the frame, making sure it stays put, and doing a full-body coat of polyurethane, they’re _finally_ building the inside. Sitting on the floor with the door to the cabinet wide open, their building materials cover the floor: hiding spots, climbs, lights, moss and mulch bedding, and wooden shelves that Atem had pre-cut with a design for the terrarium in mind.

“With the glue,” he says, ”yes. I can put it in myself, I just need him to _stop_ trying to smell it.”

Yugi sits up from where he crouches over the very bottom of the tank, gluing on little bumpers to keep the bedding from falling out every time the door opens. Atem holds out the largest piece of wood, intended to be the shelf in the middle to separate the cool part of the tank from the hot. It has a semi-circle cut out of one side to make room for Osiris and the new gigantic climbing stick.

“Which side?” Yugi asks, brandishing the adhesive.

“Here, and here.” Atem points at a long side, and the uncut short side. “The others are already done.”

_Rolls his r’s_. “I told you he would get in the way.”

“I’m not going to deny him if he wants to come out.” 

Yugi squeezes the glue onto the indicated edges. Atem performs an impressive feat of flexibility, keeping the shelf steady and blocking Osiris from it at the same time. Every time the snake makes a break for it, he moves his hand to bar the way—and scolds him playfully in Arabic. Yugi does his best to ignore his heartbeat running laps in his chest, but there’s something he’s been meaning to ask for _days_.

“Why do you only speak to him in Arabic?” he asks.

“No reason in particular,” Atem replies. “It’s just how I’ve always spoken to him.”

“Does he understand you better?”

He tilts his head. “That’s a good question. I’ve never thought about it.”

Yugi finishes with the shelf and gives a thumbs up. “You’re all set.”

“Thanks.”

Yugi’s brain notes, _Drops his “th.”_

He throttles the thought, pushing past it with a friendly smile, and buries his face in gluing the bumpers on. It is _not_ important that he notices these things. In fact, it’s _actively_ unimportant! It’s just the way he talks. None of it is even worth taking note of. He sticks on the second bumper a bit more rougly than necessary.

Above him, Atem slides in the prepped shelf at the exact middle of the terrarium. Osiris takes advantage of his newfound freedom and slithers across his owner’s arm.

“ _La,_ ” Atem warns. “ _Ihtirim nafsak_.”

Whatever the order is, Osiris doesn’t follow it. He slides all the way down to Atem’s wrist, tongue flicking curiously. Cautious and swift at the same time, Atem pushes the shelf the rest of the way in and whisks himself away from the unfinished terrarium. He smiles trumphantly at Osiris.

“Ha! _‘Afashtak_!”

Yugi hunches his shoulders and takes a quiet breath. He palms behind him for the upper shelf’s bumper, and stands up.

“Once I get this last one on,” he says, proud of his voice for remaining level, “what’s next?”

“Big decor,” Atem answers. “The climbs, hiding spots, and lights.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll start getting it all organized.” The sound of plastic being knocked around accompanies his words. 

Yugi squeezes a thick line of adhesive onto the bumper. It’s a little taller than the ones at the bottom, so Osiris can feel safer behind the cover, and to keep the bedding in while he climbs around. Atem really did think of everything.

_But they’re a little plain,_ he notices. The bumpers are the same color wood as the shelves and the frame, blending in perfectly. He knows they’re for Osiris’ sake, but they might look a little awkward from the outside without some kind of decoration. Reptile-safe paint _has_ to exist, right? It wouldn’t be on the inside, but just to be safe… 

“Hey,” he says, sticking on the bumper and looking around for Atem.

He finds Atem sitting on the floor, surrounded by tank decorations with Osiris freely exploring the mess. “Hey.”

“Does reptile-safe paint exist?”

“Acrylic paint is safe, it’s water based. Why?”

“I was thinking—” he taps the newly-glued bumper, “—you could decorate these, if you wanted.”

Atem’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

Yugi inspects the bumper again. “It doesn’t have to be crazy. Maybe a little snake or some leaves.”

“That’s a _great_ idea. I don’t think I have paint, though.”

“I do!” Yugi puts his hands on his hips, proud that his hours spent painting _Dungeons & Dragons _ miniatures can be of use. “I can bring it next time, if you want.”

“I would appreciate that.” Atem leans over until his face almost level with the ground—and with Osiris. “And I’m sure he would too.”

He chatters excitedly to the snake in his native language, probably about the new addition to his terrarium. Or calling him adorable pet names. Or talking about what he had for lunch earlier. It could be anything at all. Yugi turns around and makes himself busy with the bumper, grasping for _anything_ else to pay attention to. 

Every time Atem talks to Osiris like that, it’s a hot iron pressed against his gut. Every time he has to find something else to occupy his brain, because if he pays full attention he’ll lose his mind. His damn _attention to detail_ hears every sound in Arabic that hides in his accent, and amplifies it by a hundred. Not even mentioning the words themselves, like lyrics without music, a combination of smooth and rough sounds working together to collectively drive him insane. That’s just in a neutral tone. When Atem is _happy_ , he sees stars. He debates calling an ambulance.

And Atem is _so_ happy right now. _So_. _Happy._

He tightens every muscle in his body, pressing on the bumper with his thumbs as if he were setting it properly. But the glue has hardened up already, there’s no _way_ this looks legit, and—

“Yugi?”

He whirls around before he can think better of it, all but standing at attention. “Yes?”

Atem stares up at him, unwavering and expectant. “Does Osiris bother you?”

He almost sighs in relief. “No, no way. I mean, a little before, but I’m used to him now. He doesn’t bother me at all.”

“I know.” Atem pushes himself to his feet. 

Yugi blinks. “Then why did you—?”

“Because I want to know what’s _really_ going on.”

_Oh no_.

He decides to play it safe. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t recommend that answer.” Atem steps over the decor on the ground, careful of Osiris. “I _have_ eyes.”

Yugi flushes, hoping that doesn’t mean what he thinks it means. “I mean—I don’t really—That’s kind of a broad question—”

Atem stands right in front of him and crosses his arms. “I’ll make it simple then: what’s bothering you so often that I’ve noticed a pattern?”

_I’m screwed._ “Pattern?”

“Yes, and it’s remarkably consistent. Almost every time I get Osiris out, you tense up. It has something to do with him, right? Is it because he bit you?”

“I’m not scared of Osiris, I promise.”

“Then, what is it?”

He screws his mouth shut. What _possible_ response can he give? 

When it’s clear no answer is forthcoming, Atem drops his arms, defeated. “I’m not asking for my own sake,” he says, gentler. “If you’re nervous, he notices, and it stresses him out. I don’t want to have to keep him caged up every time you come over, because I can tell he likes you, and I— _you_ like him too, right?”

Yugi surprises himself by answering, “Yeah, I do.” 

It’s not a lie, weirdly enough. He _is_ fond of the slithery little guy. Like how naming a house spider makes it at least a little cute, hanging around Osiris in a controlled environment makes him a lot less like a potential threat and a lot more like anyone else’s pet.

And _like_ anyone else’s pet, he knows that an animal that’s easily strained won’t like _him_ very much if he continues to be the source of that strain. The idea of hurting Osiris, even indirectly, makes his heart sink. No one, not even an animal, should be hurt by his stupid lack of self control other than himself. _This_ feeling, of all feelings, doesn’t need collateral damage. 

“It’s not Osiris,” Yugi repeats. “It’s you.”

Atem narrows his eyes, skeptical and even a little amused. “Me?”

“Nnno…?” 

A little amused turns into a lot amused. “That’s not really an answer.”

“I know, I know.” Yugi runs anxious fingers through his hair. He can’t call it _nervous_ without feeling dishonest. But he’s not _not_ nervous. “I don’t think I would call it _nervous_ , per se. You, uh. You talk to Osiris a lot in Arabic, and. Um.”

Atem doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even egg him on. He just waits patiently with half a smile and Yugi realizes, _I can’t do this._

“It’s a little confusing,” he blurts, coming up with the lie as the words leave his mouth. “Because you’re having this whole conversation I can’t understand _right next to me_ , and I don’t know if it’s a private thing I shouldn’t respond to—not that I could, I mean—but I don’t even know if you’d _want_ me to participate since Osiris means so much to you and—and I kind of feel. Left out?”

Atem blinks several times, laughing under his breath. “I _think_ I got all that.”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to—”

“No, why didn’t you say something?” Atem interrupts, “Like I said, I have no real reason to talk to him in Arabic, so if it’s bothering you that much—”

Yugi waves his hands around. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s hot—it’s _not!”_ He almost _yells_ his correction, and smothers it with a follow up. “It’s _not_ bothering me, I just don’t know what to say. It’s a little awkward. That’s all.”

Silence. Atem just _stands there_ , looking at him like he’s just grown a second head. Yugi can feel nervous laughter and another rant bubbling up his throat— _I’m so screwed!_

But before he can embarrass himself further, Atem’s bewilderment becomes determination. “I know how to fix this.”

“Fix?” Yugi asks.

Atem punches his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, I’m gonna teach you Arabic!”

All at once, Yugi gets tunnel vision. He’s not processing time or space. Inside him, two warring factions fight to the death. One side is screaming, _Worst nightmare! Worst nightmare! Horrible scenario!_ And at the opposite end of the battlefield, at an equal if not louder volume, their opponents have taken up the chant, _Oh God yes._

“Sure!” he coughs. It feels like someone else is speaking for him.

Either Atem doesn’t notice, or he’s graciously ignoring Yugi’s hemorrhaging. “It won’t be anything too complicated, I’m not a teacher. We can start with the easy stuff.” 

Yugi becomes lucid enough to nod. “Cool.”

“Right. So first—”

“What, right _now_?”

He shrugs. “No time like the present, right? Plus we still have to get the decor put together.” 

Yugi glances at the floor. At all the decor they still have to set up. That they have to spend so much time. Together. Setting up. While Atem speaks Arabic to him. On purpose. His heart does three somersaults in a row. 

He’s not going to survive this.

“Makes sense to me,” he agrees. 

“Hey.” Atem nudges him again. “You get to learn Arabic from a native speaker. _Ya baxtak_ , right?” He steps back over the decor without another word and plops down where he was. Yugi stands, rigid, in the same place.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

Atem smiles, proud. “‘Lucky you.’”

“Yep.” Yugi sits down so his legs don’t give out, grateful his shirt hangs below the waist. “Lucky me.”

Over the course of the next hour, he hears—and repeats back—the Arabic words and phrases Atem teaches him. Or rather, the _Egyptian_ Arabic words and phrases. As Atem explains, Standard Arabic is mainly used in writing, and most people speak their respective regional dialect unless they’re being super formal. In this case, it’s Massry. 

It’s fascinating, and Yugi wishes he had the mental capacity to pay attention. Between his own flustered stammering, Atem’s voice, and the fact that most of the words consist of sounds he’s never _had_ to make before, just learning how to say “good morning,” takes six or seven tries. Additionally, it takes six or seven _years off his life_ hiding the fact that an Arabic lesson isn’t all he’s getting out of this.

Adorning the terrarium with shelves for the larger hides is Yugi’s diversion for a while, but working together gets the job done a lot faster than he first thought it would. Then, they set up the lights for both Osiris and the plants that will be in there eventually. Atem fills a pool, larger than the current one, and places it at the bottom, with the climbing stick set up as an easy path right to it. They even lay the bedding. It takes forty-five minutes, total.

Which means Yugi has been cross-legged on the couch with a pillow sitting innocently in his lap for fifteen minutes, hoping beyond hope doesn’t have to move it. Atem sits half a cushion down—close enough that Yugi starts to wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on.

But no. That would be ridiculous.

“ _Shukraan_ ,” Atem says, for what has to be the fiftieth time. “It’s the _r_ you’re not getting.”

“It’s the _everything_ I’m not getting,” Yugi protests. 

“You’ve gotten everything else so far.”

“Can’t we just skip this one?”

Atem cocks an eyebrow. “You want to skip ‘thank you’?”

“I can’t do this one. Please?” He clasps his hands together. “Is there another way to say it? Like hello and goodbye?”

“I bet you’re not going to like it.”

_I bet you’re wrong_. “Just tell me.”

Atem rolls his eyes, but complies with the request. “ _Mutashakir_.”

While he’s right on the front that Yugi does _not_ want to attempt to say that, the lightning down his spine is witness to the fact that he most _certainly_ liked it. 

“Nevermind,” he says, shaking his head. “What was the other one again?”

Atem adjusts himself to face Yugi directly. “ _Listen_ to how I’m saying it.”

All too happy to oblige, he says, “Okay, I’m listening.”

So slowly that every letter could be its own syllable, Atem says, “ _Shukraan_. Okay?”

Yugi closes his eyes and swallows his butterflies. He can do this. 

“Shukeran.”

He peeks one eye open. Atem sighs, bone deep. 

“It’s the _r_ ,” he mutters. “You’re not rolling the _r._ ”

Yugi bursts past his embarrassment into defiance. “I _can’t_. I keep telling you—” 

“That’s how you _say_ the word, Yugi.”

“Then I can’t say the word!”

“Just _rrrrr_.” Atem rolls his _r_ for a solid eight seconds without stopping. “It’s not hard!”

Yugi throws his head back and drapes his arms over his face to hide a raging blush. “I need a break.”

“We just took a break.”

“You taking two minutes to put Osiris away is not a break.”

He scoffs. “It was longer than _two_ minutes.”

Yugi opens his mouth to protest but a yawn comes out instead. And a _fantastic_ excuse along with it. 

“What time is it?” he asks.

He still doesn’t want to risk uncovering his face, but he hears Atem shuffling. “Oh. Later than I thought.”

“We got started kinda late today.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

Yugi hadn’t noticed either, but for _different_ reasons. He uncovers his face, now a decent temperature and a normal color. “I think I should get out of here.”

By the time he has the words out, Atem is standing. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Yugi sets the pillow aside and stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He starts for the exit, but Atem is already two steps ahead. He’s beaten there easily, not that he cares. Yugi has absolutely no complaints about walking behind him.

Atem swings the door open for him. Yugi passes with a short wave. “Bye. Have a good—”

“What?” he interrupts, propping himself up on the doorframe with his forearm. “You’re not going to practice?”

Yugi blinks, confused. “Practice wh—? Oh.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “ _Salaam._ ”

Atem smiles back, with something just shy of excitement in his eyes. “ _Mae alsalama._ ”

Yugi turns around and leaves, but he doesn’t hear the door close until he’s walking up the stairs.

  
  


It’s becoming a problem.

Atem cancels the next get-together, citing that he'll be gone for a couple of days to help a friend, the same one who lent him the truck. _Don’t ask_ , read his text, _because it’s incredibly stupid._ He continued on to say he has to go, because the friend is pulling the “you owe me one,” card. _And trust me_ , he said, _ignoring that would be bad for my health._

Yugi doesn’t press, but he can’t deny being disappointed. But for the sake of politeness, he keeps his response contained to a vague, _No problem, let me know when you’re back!_ Besides, he’s glad Atem thought to tell him at all. It would avoid the awkward scenario of going downstairs, knocking on the door, and waiting for an answer that will never come. That would be _way_ worse than this. This is only a _little_ disappointing. It’s so little that he thinks about it most of the day. 

The most ridiculous thought he catches is, _Do snakes get lonely?_ It’s so dumb he laughs at himself. Osiris isn’t a dog, he only eats once a week, and he’s _nocturnal_. He’s awake when everyone else is asleep anyway. He’s used to this. 

_But what if he_ is _lonely_? the thought persists. Popping over for just a bit couldn’t be a bad thing right? Not that he has a key. But if he _did—_

If he _did_ , it would be weird to “pop over” without permission. It’s weird enough thinking about it now. Yugi banishes all thoughts about the apartment downstairs to the back of his mind.

Those thoughts turn out to be nocturnal, too. After putting them to bed during the day, they rise as soon as the moon comes up, prowling in hungry circles around his mind. The second he crawls under the sheets, he knows he won’t be able to sleep without feeding them. 

So he lets them wander. He grants them access to places usually kept off-limits. They slink in and out of these forbidden spots, now free for perusal, poking and prodding and latching on to other, squirming thoughts he didn’t know existed. And it’s not until his breathing is shallow, until any sort of fabric feels restrictive, until he can hear Atem’s voice in his ear saying things it has _never_ said to him, does he think, _Maybe I’m going a bit too far_.

But the thoughts are hungry, and Yugi has promised to feed them. So he does, and doesn’t stop to think twice about if it’s wrong. 

He falls asleep a short time later, the carnivores in his brain full and satisfied, ready to leap and play through his dreams the rest of that night. Then, he wakes up the next morning, and his first daylight thought is, _This has to be the end of it._

Thinking that a stranger is attractive is one thing. Continuing to think that, while living in the same building as them but not interacting, is another. But taking those thoughts about a person to a new extreme, all the while meeting up with them every few days, talking, hanging out, becoming friendly—if not _friends_ —is _quite_ another.

Yugi curls into a ball under his sheets. He should… probably say something.

But not right now! Not while Atem is out of town, because he’d have to do it over text. Nothing would make their next terrarium session more awkward—maybe even _non-existent—_ than that. Plus, Yugi doesn’t want to hand over something _new_ for Atem to worry about while he’s helping a friend. No, it’s better to wait until he gets back. Conveniently, it also lets him stall for time. 

Because Yugi doesn’t do anything without thinking of the full range of consequences. He doesn’t do anything without assessing his position—what does he stand to gain, and what does he stand to lose? He doesn’t even start making a _plan_ until he lays out every possible way it could go right, wrong, or somewhere in between. He knows his hand, and he knows that a single cardflip can make or break a game. So is this the ace up his sleeve, or does Atem have a trump card?

He throws the covers off his face, rubbing his eyes. The stagnating air is clearly going to his head.

_Stop thinking about this like a game_ , he scolds himself. It’s _not_ a game. It’s his real feelings and Atem’s real feelings—whatever they might be. He can’t just roll the dice and expect it to turn out his way because the numbers are good. There’s no _attention-to-detail_ -ing his way out of this one.

Yugi drags himself out of bed, staring across the room at his desk. Sitting lined up in rainbow order, little bottles of leftover paint and tiny brushes, meant for decorating the terrarium next time. His stomach jumps at the thought. That would be the best time to spill, right? Next time?

He shuffles across the carpet to fiddle with the color red. Not right away, though. It would make the whole space awkward. At that point, it would be better to just leave. They wouldn’t even get _started_. 

But _during_ the process would be worse. Because they’d have to finish in that same awkwardness, or cut it short. Maybe _never_ get it done. At least not together, which is what Yugi wants. It surprises him how much he wants that—to build something together, literally. Not exactly start to finish, because Atem modified the frame himself, but Yugi _has_ been there for the entire rest of the process. He wants to see it through. 

So, not before or during. After, then? But no, Atem would _definitely_ want to continue the Arabic lesson, if he hadn’t started by then—and a shudder courses through Yugi at the thought. That would be _the worst_ time. He wouldn’t have any control over the situation _or_ himself. He might say something stupid. Or _do_ something stupid, if last night was any indicator of his willingness to do a lot of stupid things for that voice…

He smacks himself out of it. Control. That’s what he needs. Self-control, and scene control. He needs something to ground himself, something to keep him focused and in the moment, so even if he does get a little _distracted_ , he’ll have a way to get his head screwed on right again. Preferably something that forces him to think, so he can have the right mindset for talking seriously about something. 

He glances around without a purpose, hoping a solution will simply materialize, until his eyes catch the dusty corner of a box pushed under his bed. A slow smile spreads across his face.

Maybe thinking about it like a game is useful after all.

  
  


Yugi can’t tell if it's been an eternity or less than a blink when he finds himself at Atem’s front door again, bag of paint on one arm and the box tucked under the other. He raises one hand but can’t bring himself to knock. His palms are slick with sweat. He bounces on the balls of his feet incessantly.

It isn’t _new_ for him to be nervous before he sees Atem. But with the knowledge of what he plans to do tonight, everything compounds on itself until he’s proud of walking in a straight line.

He takes a preparatory breath and raps on the door, twice. He snaps his hand back to his side, swallowing hard. _Just pretend it’s like any other time_ , he thinks. It doesn’t help.

Before he can decide whether or not to run away, the door opens.

“Hey,” Atem says, breathless like he got up and ran to answer. “Hi, it’s gr—" he cuts himself off with a little gasp, and presses a finger to his lips. He clears his throat. “ _Ahlan wa sahlan_.”

Yugi runs through his memory to find the proper response—and how to say it, hopefully. “ _Ahlan byk_?”

Atem lights up with a pretty smile, standing back to let him in, and Yugi _knows_ —as if he didn’t already—that he is completely, irreparably fucked.

“Perfect,” Atem says, as Yugi walks through the door. “You brought the paint?”

“Yep. _And_ something for later, if you feel like it.” He hands over the box, face up. Atem takes it and laughs out loud.

“ _Snakes and Ladders_?” He hands it back with an incredulous grin. “Really?”

Yugi takes it with a smile of his own. “I thought it was funny.”

“It is.” He shuts the door. “We’re definitely playing that.”

_That was fast._ Yugi had thought some convincing would be in order, but apparently not. 

“Did you get your friend helped out?” he asks. He drops the board game on the couch, along with the paint.

Atem groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“What did you even _do_?”

“It involved a trampoline, a rope, and more spray paint than I thought existed on the planet, and that is _all_ I’m going to tell you.”

Atem walks past him to give the terrarium his usual once-over before they start messing with it. Yugi folds his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“You have some green,” he says, pointing, “on your neck.”

Atem freezes in place and slaps his hand over the smear. He growls under his breath, “ _Allah yil’enak, Bakura.”_

Yugi makes himself busy unloading the paint and brushes. Incredibly busy. 

“Anyway,” Atem continues, still covering the green paint, “I left the lights on and filled the pool while I was gone, so the heat and humidity could stabilize. All that’s left to do is add decorations and a snake.”

Across the room in his old tank, Osiris sleeps curled up in one of his hiding spots. Yugi smiles at the dark lump—he’s really going to get a kick out of watching the snake explore his new tank.

“Ready to get started?” Atem asks.

Without a hint of the nerves he had not two minutes ago, he says, “Let’s do it.”

For the sake of conserving the heat and humidity, they paint the outside of the terrarium first. All the colors are squeezed out onto a paper plate with a plastic cup for their paint water, and it’s soon a giant colorful mess. For as small as the brushes are, made for detail work on tiny subjects, they use up a _lot_ of paint.

They split the terrarium down the middle, Yugi on one side and Atem on the other, to ensure they both get to paint what they want. Down the front left corner, Yugi brushes on twisting vines and leaves, like the ones present in Osiris’ tank and all around them. On the right, Atem dedicates himself to painting the wood as close to Osiris’ scale pattern as possible. He uses a _lot_ of the red.

When it comes time to paint the inside, they’re forced shoulder to shoulder. There’s only so much space when the door opens, and the top bumper is already small—even smaller when split down the middle.

On the border where their decorations meet, Atem fans his brush out in a semicircle, making a patch of “scales,” that’s curved on the top and tapers to a point at the bottom. It looks like half a heart.

_Aww_ , Yugi thinks. _That’s cute_. He arcs his own brush around to finish the shape with a leafy outline.

“Oh,” Atem murmurs.

Yugi’s nerves start spinning again. “Didn’t you do that on purpose?”

“No.”

“Oh.” _Oops_.

“But I like it,” he jumps to confirm. “It’s a good idea.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the painting is done in silence. 

It lifts when it comes time to move the plants in. Maneuvering Osiris’ old tank to a place where they can easily reach in and grab the foliage has to be communicated in _some_ way. Osiris himself elects to perch on Atem’s shoulders again, watching the two of them take apart his home with curious flicks of his tongue. Yugi leans over the open tank, but hesitates before even brushing a single leaf. 

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he admits.

“As long as you get the roots,” Atem reassures him, “a few leaves falling off doesn’t matter.” He digs around under the three-inch layer of bedding, and his hand comes up full of mulch, moss, and the roots of a Chinese evergreen. “See?”

Yugi points at himself. “Plant killer.”

“Then _I’ll_ pull them out, and you can move them to the new tank.”

“Deal.”

Atem drops the wide-leafed plant into Yugi’s cupped hands, and he carefully shuffles it to the new tank on his knees. He brushes aside the bedding to make a dip for the new addition, and piles it over the roots. He sits back on his heels, admiring his work.

A shrill whistle makes him jump. Atem holds his hands out with another plant, bigger this time, using two hands to support it. Not that his hands are even visible with all the leaves, large with big white streaks.

“Got another one” he says. 

“Right.” Yugi takes it hurriedly. He can appreciate the plants _after_ they’re all in the tank.

After relocating two or three more, the sheer size of the new tank makes them a lot less impressive, in Yugi’s eyes. With so much space to go around, it’s less “fit to bursting” with nature, and more of a minimalist garden. Even the thick, tangled ivy he drapes over the hiding places on the upper half seem lacking.

“Are you sure these plants will be enough?” he asks, patting down the bedding around the latest addition—some kind of fern.

“They’ll grow,” Atem answers simply. “But we can always add more if we need to.”

Yugi almost accepts that answer—it’s a reasonable enough explanation—but something catches him on the backswing. “We?”

Atem doesn’t look up from digging up another plant, but Yugi watches the skin on his face flush a shade darker. “It’s yours too, isn’t it? You helped build it.” 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to mess with it after we’re done.”

“It’s not ‘messing’ if I want you to help.”

Atem holds out the next plant and Yugi’s hands automatically reach for it too. He ends up grabbing both the plant _and_ the hands holding it. He freezes, staring. 

“Uh,” Atem stutters. “You’re um. I can’t let go if—”

“Right!” Yugi jerks his hands away like he burned them. “Sorry! Sorry about that.”

He opens his hands _properly_ this time, and Atem delivers the plant. Their fingers brush longer than usual. They whip around to their respective stations and wordlessly agree to pretend the last sixty seconds never happened.

All too soon—or maybe not soon enough—the old tank is cleaned out of all plant matter. The new terrarium, draped floor to ceiling in leafy adornments, could easily fit another dozen plants. _Now_ Yugi takes the opportunity to stand back and admire his work. Atem does the same at his side, his shoulders free of Osiris, the snake wandering around his empty old home. Which Yugi thinks is a _strange_ place for him to be, now that his new home is finished.

“And _now_ ,” Atem announces, “we do the hard part.” He closes and locks the door to the terrarium, leaving Yugi confused in the middle of the room.

“What hard part?” he asks.

Atem jerks his head to the far wall. “We have to move it.”

Yugi slumps. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sadly, Atem is not kidding him. Bracing one side each of the terrarium, they half-lift, half-drag it across the floor to the indicated space. By the time it’s snugly against the wall, they’re both heaving.

“Why,” Yugi pants, “didn’t we do this _before_?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the paint,” Atem wheezes.

“That’s a good reason, but I _hate_ it.”

He laughs as best he can through his gasps. “I think I agree with you.”

After regaining the ability to breathe, they return to Osiris. The snake makes his discomfort with his empty tank clear by being half outside of it by the time they get back. Atem bends down to pick him up again. Osiris wraps himself tightly around his owner’s arm, looking like he won’t move for anything.

“I think we pissed him off,” Yugi chuckles.

“Maybe,” Atem says, “but let’s see how pissed off he is when he sees that new pool.”

They wait with bated breath as Yugi unlocks the door to the new terrarium. Atem bends down to the lower level, holding out the arm Osiris has himself fixed around and using the other to support his bulky coils. Nothing happens.

Then, slowly, Osiris peeks his head out from Atem’s arm. He sniffs the air, forked tongue going ballistic at the scent of a new place to explore. He crawls down from his perch, uncoiling his body and stretching out farther. The first few inches of his body hit the bedding. He sniffs around, unwrapping more and more until there’s none of him left on the outside. 

Atem locks the door and beams at Yugi, who is just as ecstatic. They high-five enthusiastically, too excited for words. Not even a cry of _We did it!_ can match the absurd pleasure of knowing Osiris likes the terrarium. Yugi can relate to every proud parent in the universe. 

“Alright,” Atem breaks their delighted silence, “we should let him get used to it.”

“Sure, sure,” Yugi agrees. But he bends down _one more time_ to watch Osiris dip into the pool to soak. His constant smiling hurts, but he doesn’t care. This is the _best_ feeling—nothing could possibly ruin this night.

“Why don’t we play the game you brought?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, swallows up his joy, and replaces it with anxiety. He remembers why he brought it. Now, there are plenty of things that could ruin this night.

But Yugi stands up, turns around, and keeps his joyous smile. “I’m down,” he says.

He remembers why he brought the game. And it’s going to lead him to victory one way or another.

They set out the _Snakes and Ladders_ board on the floor, after cleaning up all of their supplies—which means “putting it all on the couch.” Yugi sits so he’s viewing the board upside down, near the start. Atem opposite him near the end, going over the rules.

“Question” he says.

“Ask away,” Yugi says.

Atem picks up one of the two six-sided dice Yugi set out for them to use. “What is this second one for?”

His mouth drops open. “You’ve never played _house rules_?”

“I haven’t played this game since I was _six_.”

Yugi plucks the die from his hand and picks up the other. “In house rules, you roll both of these. You use one to move yourself, and the other to move your opponent.”

Atem raises a brow, unimpressed. “What purpose does that serve?”

“Because in _house rules_ —” Yugi drops the dice, “—you’re allowed to move backwards.”

_That_ gets his attention. He smiles, almost sinister. “Huh. Sounds a little more strategic than the _Snakes and Ladders_ I remember.”

“I have almost ruined friendships with these rules. It’s the best.”

“Well.” Atem tosses him a game piece out of the box. “Get ready to almost-ruin another.”

“Game on.”

The beginning of the game starts out friendly enough. Any early advantages are only valuable until the other gets ahead, which is fairly easy in the first twenty spaces or so. Plus, the ability to move backwards cuts a lot of distance, and steals away chances of getting to a decent ladder. There’s nothing of friendship-ruining status at this stage.

With not much to think about regarding strategy, Yugi concentrates on the deal he made with himself. If he wins this game, he has to spill to Atem.

Yugi knows himself too well to think he’d ever sabotage his own chances of winning, unless it were something _truly_ serious. Because the house rules force him to think so much, it’ll keep him centered up until the very end, at which point he just has to _say it_. As soon as his piece hits the hundredth space, he has to drop the ball. And Yugi is nothing if not a man of his word.

Atem gets a significant lead when he lands on the ladder that takes him to space forty-two, leaving Yugi in his dust after being forced to ride a snake all the way back to space twenty-five.

It reveals the one flaw with Yugi’s plan: he didn’t come up with a deal for if he _loses_. 

“Beat that” Atem challenges, propping his chin up on his fist.

“I will,” Yugi says. He takes the dice and rolls. A six and a three.

“Better take that six, you’ll need it now.”

Yugi scowls across the board and pulls his roll closer. He _could_ use that six, especially with so much room to catch up for. He could use it to bump Atem back a few spaces, too. But looking over the board, he sees an even better opportunity.

“I’m going to take this _three_ actually,” he says, already preening. “But first, I’m going to help you out.”

Atem doesn’t say a word. He just watches as Yugi moves his piece six spaces forward, and—

“ _Oh_ , you f—” 

“And that's not all, folks!” He slides Atem’s piece down the snake he forced it to land on, all the way back to space twenty-eight. Then, he moves his own piece three spaces backward, right to the ladder that climbs him all the way to sixty-four. 

Atem glowers, eyes burning like hot coals. “New Arabic lesson,” he says. “ _Airi feek_.”

Too proud to be ruffled, Yugi asks, “What does it mean?”

“ _Fuck you_.”

He laughs and chucks the dice across the board. Atem snatches them out of the air without so much as blinking, and throws them down to roll his turn. Yugi wants to rub his hands together like a mad scientist. Now the _fun_ begins.

Their tactics get advanced, and their respective efforts to win increase ten-fold. It isn’t _Snakes and Ladders_ anymore, it’s chess. They start out-smarting, under- and over-estimating, calculating plans, and doing a lot more than a game for children deserves. But it’s too late now—the gauntlet has been thrown. It’s anybody’s game.

Yugi folds his hands in front of his mouth. His game piece sits on sixty one, and Atem’s is on seventy-two. He stares at his rolls of a four and one. Both small, not significant enough to make a favorable impact for him, nor a detrimental one for Atem.

One space ahead of Yugi’s piece is a snake—an obvious no. But one space _behind_ Atem is a ladder that would take him right to ninety-two. An even more obvious no. The row of seventies is hazardless, so he has no hope of getting Atem closer to a snake. He has no choice but to move himself forward four, in the hopes that Atem doesn’t roll something on his turn that would lead him back to the snake—likely costing him the game—and move Atem as far away from the ladder behind him as possible. In this case, one space.

“Having some trouble?” Atem taunts.

“Not even a little,” Yugi shoots back. He makes his moves, and passes the dice off.

“Good. I’d hate for this to end so soon.”

“Me neither. I’ll make sure you watch yourself lose in _excruciating_ detail.”

“That’s cute. It really is.”

The exaggerated sarcasm does nothing to convince Yugi’s brain it isn’t a genuine compliment. He crosses his arms and hopes the flush looks like anger.

“Roll,” he demands.

Atem rolls. The dice come up snake eyes. “ _Ya zbala_ ,” he curses.

Yugi shifts in his seat. He thinks about the game. “Just be glad we’re not playing with the _evil_ house rules.”

“What are they?”

“Snake eyes take you to the nearest snake, doubles sixes take you to the nearest ladder.”

Atem’s eyes trail the nearest snake, and his eyes bulge—it would take him all the way back to eighteen. “Yes, I _am_ glad for that.”

“ _That’s_ the rule that I’ve almost ruined friendships with the most.”

“I can see why.”

Without many options to choose from, Atem’s move is to scoot them both up one space. Which Yugi thinks is _suspiciously_ kind of him, but he doesn’t say a word. If Atem thinks he’s caught on to some kind of strategy, he’ll change it up.

On his turn, the dice turn up six and five. Another fantastic opportunity presents itself. He bumps Atem back five spaces. It’s nowhere near a snake, but just watching his face as Yugi moves his piece six spaces up and lands on the ladder he was once _so close_ to hitting is a victory in itself. 

“How’s that taste?” he jeers. 

“ _Tilhas tizi,_ ” Atem grumbles, swiping the dice off the board. 

“And? What does that one mean?”

He meets Yugi’s eyes for a beat, then stares at the board. “I’m not telling you.”

Yugi puts his hands out, baffled. “How am I supposed to be properly insulted if you don’t tell me what it means?”

“Trust me.” He throws the dice. “Be insulted.”

The game continues. Yugi gets backed up from his sudden lead, and Atem surges forward. A mere three turns later, they’re neck in neck on the same row—the _final_ row. A handful of spaces, two game-ruining snakes, and the other’s strategies are the only obstacles in the way of victory.

Yugi’s heart freezes when Atem moves him to space ninety-four, right beside one of the two hungry snakes, his own piece sitting on ninety-eight. Yugi takes the dice with trepidation.

This is it. This round decides the winner. Everything could change tonight—for better or worse.

It’s clear the importance gets across to Atem as well, though for a different reason. He watches the roll with wide eyes. Yugi tenses as the plastic dice hit the board. 

A two and a five. His stomach drops. 

Silence falls over the room. No taunting, no insults, Yugi’s not even sure if he’s breathing. He rolled the perfect numbers to lose.

The five isn’t enough to get him to the end, and he _can’t_ take the risk that Atem won’t roll a two next turn. Having to roll the exact number of spaces you need to actually win the game makes it difficult, but not impossible, for Atem to win _next_ _turn_. He needs something else—he needs to cripple Atem so he has no chance. But the two isn’t enough to back him into either one of the snakes, he’d just land between them. If only he’d rolled a one or a three instead!

No, he can’t give up. There _has_ to be a way, there _has to_. Regardless of the consequences, winning is all he cares about, and there _has_ to be a way. He scans the board intently, counting and recounting, taking note of every ladder, every snake.

And a smile breaks out across his face. There _is_ a way.

First, Yugi moves his piece forward two spaces, settling him right between the snakes. Atem frowns, but says nothing. It’s hard for Yugi to keep from declaring victory right then, but he holds his tongue. It’s not over until it’s over, and he has a promise to keep.

He moves Atem’s piece, two spaces forward to the victory. Then, because five is too big, he backs the piece up three spaces…

And lands right on one of the snakes, sliding him back two full rows.

“No!” Atem cries. “Absolutely not!”

Yugi claps. “Yes, I was _so_ ready to—”

“You can’t do that.”

He snaps out of his celebration. “What? Yes I can.”

“You moved me to the end, so I won.”

He wants to laugh, but Atem is dead serious. “No, you have to roll the exact number of spaces. You read the rules.”

“It didn’t say that.”

Now he _does_ laugh. “Bullshit!”

“I’ll show you!”

“ _Please_ do.”

Atem whips the rules out from the box at his side. He scans over them for less than ten seconds before declaring, “It’s not in there.”

“Uh-huh.” Yugi reaches out his hand. “Hand it over.”

Atem lets his wrist fall limp, holding the rules out, but not handing it over. Yugi gives him a look, and reaches out to grab the page himself. But when he tries to take it, Atem flicks it out of his grasp. Yugi narrows his eyes and tries again. The page rustles, suddenly in a new spot.

“Quit it,” Yugi demands.

“Quit what?” Atem asks, perfectly innocent. 

He grabs for the rules. Atem moves the page again. Yugi leans forward, and Atem goes around, dangling the page in the air. Yugi gives him a hard look. He _smiles,_ eyes sparkling.

Yugi folds his arms, fighting a smile of his own. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I think _you’re_ being ridiculous.”

“Just hand it _over_.”

“I am!” He shakes the page around, high above both their heads. 

Yugi glances up. He rises to both his knees and snatches for it—only for Atem to hold it farther up. He tries again. Atem pulls his arm back. 

“ _Give it_ to me,” Yugi growls.

Atem shakes the page again, taunting him. “Come and get it.”

That’s it. That’s what does it.

Yugi launches himself over the game, arms outstretched. Atem’s eyes get comically large, and he scoots backward with the rules hugged to his chest. Yugi lands on all fours, catching nothing but carpet. But he doesn’t stop after one attempt, catching Atem by the wrist and diving for the rules with the other hand. Atem switches the page from one hand to the other, holding it as high as he can while being attacked.

“Give!” Yugi cries.

“No!”

Not letting the empty hand free, Yugi tries to wrench the other one out of the sky. “They’re _mine_.”

“Not anymore.” Atem yanks his empty hand away, snatching the rules again.

Yugi wastes no time grabbing his wrist again, now holding both of Atem’s arms captive. “Give. _Up_.”

“In. Your. _Dreams_!”

Atem jerks his whole body backward, attempting unsuccessfully to free himself. Instead, he lands on his back with Yugi face planting into the carpet by his shoulder. They both go limp, gasping to regain the air they lost in the scuffle.

“Ow,” Atem says. Yugi can’t help but agree. He releases the captive wrists and pushes himself up on his hands.

“Truce?” he offers.

He doesn’t get an answer.

Instead, he gets Atem staring up at him like a startled deer. He’s let the rule page go, but otherwise doesn’t move a muscle. Yugi almost asks him what’s wrong—and only then does he realize how he’s positioned. 

On all fours. If he lowered himself, they’d be chest-to-chest. And because he's on his knees, Atem’s legs are forced out of the way, leaving him rather… exposed.

“Sorry,” Yugi blurts, retreating as quickly as possible. “Sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t even—Uh?”

His stammering fades to stunned silence as Atem rises with him, and drags Yugi _back down_ by the arms, slow enough that he could easily pull away. He doesn’t, because it’s not as though he’s _upset_ with this outcome. At all. But…

He didn’t win. He didn’t lose. Nothing is going according to plan.

“Wh-What?” Yugi sutters. “What are you d—?”

“ _Adyny bwsh_ ,” Atem says, unwavering. His hands haven’t left Yugi’s arms.

His heart jumps into his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Adyny bwsh_.”

“Is… is that Arabic?”

“ _Ah_.”

Yugi’s brain is muddled enough, but he recognizes that as a yes. He laughs nervously. “I don’t really think this is the time for a—”

“ _Adyny bwsh_.”

“What does that _mean_? Am I just supposed to guess?”

Atem gives a bashful smile. “ _Ah_.”

“O-Okay. Um.”

Yugi squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember one—just _one_ —of the Arabic words Atem taught him, to see if they could be in any way related to this one. It’s not working. The constant hammering of his heart is all he can hear. His face alone is a hundred degrees. Every drop of moisture in his mouth has evaporated.

“ _Yugi_?”

Atem has never said his name with an accent before. It’s horrible and incredible at the same time.

“Just—I need a second,” he says. It’s more of a gasp. “I—I can’t really think of anyth—”

He cuts himself off with a squeak as a hand reaches up to brush his cheek. “ _Adyny bwsh, Yugi.”_

Too much. Way too much. It takes every last ounce of self-respect Yugi has to keep from whining. He bites down hard on his lip and hunches his back to keep from grinding down.

“If you don’t shut up,” he rasps, “I am going to do something incredibly stupid.”

“ _Ya mosaahil, Yugi!_ ” The simple brush turns into a firm hold, and a second hand joins it. Yugi’s eyes fly open. 

The deer-in-headlights look is long gone. Now, Atem’s eyes are set hard with want, vulnerable and exposed in a way Yugi has never seen before.

“ _Akhrus,_ ” Atem says, and his voice cracks, _“waetani bush.”_

Yugi decides to shut them both up.

He drops to his elbows and there’s a momentary flash of pain as their faces collide, but it absolutely does not matter as he kisses Atem with every molecule in his body. The hands on his face wrap around and tighten to fist in his hair, and Yugi presses down even harder. Every feeling and thought he’s had since day one combine to form the ultimate source of energy, transcending even oxygen itself, because he doesn’t intend to stop. And from the way Atem grips and presses him down, he;s not sure he could even if he wanted to.

But eventually, those hands loosen, Yugi’s lungs start begging for air, and they’re forced apart. He presses their foreheads together, swallowing air in huge gasps. 

“Did I guess right?” he huffs.

Atem can barely manage a laugh. “Yes. Perfectly.”

“Good. Because that was going to happen whether I was right or not.”

Atem trails one hand down his back, the other combing through his hair. “I’m glad you finally decided to take the hint.”

“Finally?” Yugi pulls back to look him in the face, confused. “What do you mean ‘finally?’”

“What do _you_ mean?”

“How long have you been dropping hints?”

Atem’s face contorts in disbelief. His hands freeze. “Day one. Since _literally_ day one, Yugi.”

“ _What_?”

“Did you not pick up on _any_ of it?”

Yugi’s brain misfires. All he can do is stammer, “I—You were— _What_?”

Atem grabs him by the shoulders, disbelief becoming concern. “Are you _serious_? Not even when I told you about The Green Dragon?”

“How was that a hint?”

“Yugi, I was practically _begging_ you to ask me out.”

“Why didn’t _you_ do it, then?”

“Well, I—” Atem keeps his mouth open for several seconds, but nothing comes out. Over several seconds, his face transitions from indingant to resigned. “I don’t know, exactly.”

Yugi melts at the display. He presses their foreheads together again. “Alright, I’ll let it slide,” he says. “But now _you_ have to tell me how long you’ve known about the voice thing.”

He watches in shock as Atem’s face blanks out in complete non-recognition. 

“No,” he insists. “No you can’t _not_ know about this.”

“What’s the voice thing?” Atem looks worried again—probably for his own sake. 

“You were _just_ doing it.”

“What, Arabic? I was just too shy to ask you for real!”

He can’t even focus on how adorable that is. He’s too shocked. “You seriously don’t know?”

“What am I _not_ knowing?”

Yugi looks away and pushes out a sigh. No use in keeping it a secret now, right?

“When you talk in Arabic,” he says. And can’t bring himself to say anything more.

“Yes?” Atem presses. Yugi would once again have thought it was on purpose, if not for the honest confusion on his face.

“It’s… you know.” Yugi feels his temperature rise. He pushes out the confession through gritted teeth, “It gets me off.”

“ _Oh_.” The corners of Atem smile curl into something a lot less innocent. Yugi wants to smack it off. Or kiss it off. Either work. “I thought that was because of all _this_.” He gestures to their current position.

“It didn’t help, but it was mostly the talking.”

He looks almost amazed at the idea. “Really? This is real?”

Yugi huffs. “Yes, _really_ , can you please stop looking at me like that?”

Atem does not stop. If anything, he gets worse, like a sadistic cat toying with an injured bird. He slides his hands around Yugi’s neck, pulling him back in close.

“ _Hajat ghariba_ ,” he says, low. “ _Ayya haaga?_ ”

Yugi doesn’t bother hiding his reaction—it’s clearly what Atem wants. He makes a muffled sort of whine and breathes, “Okay, I get it. You’re going to have fun with this.”

Atem actually _laughs_ at his torment, ghosting his other hand across his hip. “ _Ya haram_.”

If he were of a sounder mind, Yugi would be embarrassed about how easy he’s making this. “I-is it better or worse that I have no idea what you’re saying?”

“It means—” Whatever the translation is, Atem cuts it off. He slaps a hand over his mouth. “I offered to teach you Arabic,” he whispers instead.

Yugi comes off his cloud and sighs. “Yes. You sure did.”

“And the whole time were you—?”

Now he’s _definitely_ embarrassed. “Yep.”

Atem uncovers his mouth and runs the hand through his hair. “Wow. _That’s_ why you were so nervous when I got Osiris out.”

“That whole thing about feeling left out was a complete lie, by the way.”

“This makes so much sense. How did I not _notice_ this?”

Yugi covers his face with his hands. “Perfect. So we’re _both_ idiots.”

“At least we have that much in common.”

He snorts. “At least.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Yugi uncovers his face in a simple question. Atem wastes no time pulling him close for a kiss, soft and sweet. He pulls away after not-long-enough.

“I think we should forget about it,” he says.

Yugi adjusts his position, about to demonstrate _how much_ he agrees with that, when something red and long appears in his peripheral vision. He does a double take

“ _Osiris_?”

Atem frantically sits up and twists around. They both gawk at the freed snake, slithering across the floor and eyeing them both.

“How did he get out?” Yugi asks, at a complete loss.

“I have no idea,” Atem admits. “I locked the door.” He sits up a little farther to look over the couch. Yugi stands on his knees.

The door to Osiris’ new terrarium hangs open, as though never closed at all. They look at each other with matching dumbfoundedness.

“I think,” Yugi says, “we’re going to need a better lock.”

“Or a better door.”

The confusion turns into smiles. The smiles turn into laughter. And the laughter turns into Yugi grabbing Atem by the face and kissing him, over and over and over.

Osiris curls up on the floor, and goes to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Arabic Translations (in order of appearance)
> 
> Ibnil fash-kha (ابن الفشخة) = son of a bitch  
> ya hamaji (يا همجي) = you uncivilized/you barbaric  
> dmaghik teban (دماغك تعبانة) = your head is sick  
> ya hayawen (يا حيوان) = you animal  
> ghabi fehshkh (غبي فشخ) = very stupid  
> akh (آخ) = ouch  
> allaen (اللَعْنة) = damn/dammit [lit. curse]  
> marhabaan 'ayuha alwasim (مرحبا أيها الوسيم) = hello, handsome  
> mayn dhlk wasim sabi? (مين ذلك وسيم صبي؟) = Who is that handsome boy?  
> maashi (ماسي) = (it’s) okay [lit. it walks/it’s workable]  
> ‘ant thueban jayid, aywa? (أنت ثعبان جيد ، ايوه؟) = you’re a good snake, yes?  
> ihtirim nafsak (احترم نفسك) = behave yourself/be polite [lit. respect yourself]  
> ahlan (اهلا) = hello  
> hakallemak baʿdīn. (هكلمك بعدين) = I will call you back  
> ‘ana mashg(hul) (أنا مشغول) = I’m busy  
> allah (الله) = interjection of surprise/frustration  
> baba (بابا) = dad  
> tawwal baalak (طوّل بالك) = be patient  
> khalik fi halik (خليك في حالك) = mind your own business  
> da kalaam ayy kalaam (ده كلام أي كلام) = That's a bunch of nonsense  
> tozz (طزّ) = so what?/whatever  
> ruwhi talaeat (روحي طلعت) = i’m fed up  
> ya kadhaab (يا كذاب) = you liar  
> maalak? (مالك؟) = what’s wrong with you?  
> la (لا،) = no  
> haraam ealayk (حرام عليك) = shame on you  
> faat il-awaan (فات الاوان) = it’s too late  
> salaam (سلام) = goodbye [lit. peace]  
> 'afashtak (قفتشك) = caught you  
> ya baxtak (يا بختك) = lucky you  
> shukraan (شكرا) = thank you  
> mutashakir (متشكر) = thank you  
> mae alsalama (مع السلامة) = goodbye [lit. go in peace]  
> ahlan wa sahlan (أهلا وسهلا) = welcome/hello  
> ahlan byk (أهلا بيك) = hello [common response to أهلا وسهلا]  
> allah yil’enak (الله يلعنك) = God damn you  
> airi feek (ايري فيك) = fuck you [lit. my penis in you]  
> ya zbala (يا زبالة) = you pile of garbage  
> tilhas tizi (طيزي تلحس) = lick my ass  
> adyny bwsh (اديني بوسه) = give me a kiss  
> ah (آه) = yes [short for ايوه)  
> ya mosaahil (يا مساهل) = God help me  
> akhrus waetani bush (اخرس واعطاني بوسه) = Shut up and give me a kiss  
> hajat ghariba (حاجة غريبة) = how strange  
> ayya haaga (اى حاجة) = anything  
> ya haram (يا حرام) = poor thing


End file.
